Monday, February 28, 2005


Play the podcast.

This poem was inspired by Sylvia Plath (of course) -- but I was trying to do an anti-Plath with the rhythm, which is to say that there is no rhythm. But -- isn't that what you'd expect in a poem that is about electrocution -- a deliberate method of stopping heartbeats? You decide...


I drop the raw, live wire, plugged-in

into the pool of water where I am standing –

grape lips, scorched soles,

wired hair, convulsions –

remind me of you

in your touch inexplicable voltage –

the amperage is what kills

(or fails to)

and still, tears scar,

or didn’t I know that?

a room thick with charged vapor and wanting;

flames jolting the blue out of my eyes,

and yet the color refuses to budge

amnesia was the gift

this was supposed to deliver –

I can’t remember your name,

but the longing

is worse

than ever.

1 comment:

Koan said...

Hi Susan, thank you so much for sharing these poems with your readers. I'm commenting on this one purely because it's my personal favourite of those you've posted, but I have found enjoyment in all of them. What *really* brings the words to life, though, is your reading of them; and the vocal characteristics you use in comparison between this poem and, say, "Dream House", display so beautifully that *how* you read and pace the delivery is such an integral part of bringing the written words to life. Please post and read more of your work! :-) Best wishes, Koan