The Hanging Man Poem by Sylvia Plath
The Hanging Man
Rating: ★5.0
By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me.
I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet.
The nights snapped out of sight like a lizard's eyelid :
A world of bald white days in a shadeless socket.
A vulturous boredom pinned me in this tree.
If he were I, he would do what I did.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
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5/7/2024 10:39:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Such a unique sense of description; it differs from other poets in that she relates one thing to something completely different with no relation, and creates a clash. Beautiful poem, I love the contrast.