Four From Delos
1.
Plath
Saw the ring of her
Future just before
It flew to her finger.
Then the real began.
There were acrobats
Juggling children
In the kitchen,
And words that fell
To the fire like soot.
She cared for them,
She wrote them
Down, she mothered.
2.
Berryman
In his Paris Review
Interview
Berryman intrudes
As self-editor—
After many
Answers he adds
In parenthesis: Delusion.
It was annoying
To me when I read
It, hip fanboy
That I was. But
Now, now I get it.
3.
Stein
Where she was
A witch she was not
And how visibly
A noun would play
A better verb
Ernest, she’d say
Round up the round
Nouns I’ll help
Cut once, but
Once only
And everyone think
You the writer
4.
Pinter
What you need is
A good defense and
A good offense—
That’s all you lack.
Pauses make gaps
Of terrible intent—
Hot breath on your face.
Cheap rooms, coin
Operated gas,
Mold you can smell
On walls. A cry
Buried under words.
5.
O’Connor
Jesus thrown everything
Off balance. Peacocks
Nasty, untamable,
Strutting emeralds for sex.
Maybe Jesus didn’t
Raise the dead. Sew dress
And underwear for
Pet duck, bring to school.
The stinking
Mad shadow of Jesus.
Solitary, genius, comatose—
Dead at thirty-eight.
