I Love You Sylvia!
'What a thrill - -
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of a hinge
A flap like a hat,
Then that red plush.'-Sylvia Plath
I tell my finger cut
To straighten those lips.
I am tired
On my body.
I disrupt the circulatory indulgence
By choking the natural ambition
Of the wound.
I smear the wound’s pride
Onto old photographs.
The past looks better
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