EXORCISM RITE
FOR THOSE POSSESSED BY SYLVIA PLATH

sylvia, i thought i was you
with hemlock pacifier and auschwitz finger
          paints.

gray sky gray. you say
nothingness by cliffs of your father's
corpse. i crunch cornflakes
lustily and scorn the milk.

peel and peel like an orange
or an onion. i've never liked ovens.
those toilets of domesticity.

wind dances icy and bites
storm threads and i think of you.
a wild sort of gray.

theme: you wrote yourself out of the poem.

meter: steel clouds/november/dropped
          pencil/gynecologist/pinky finger/
          maple tree/ pine tree/fir tree/sparrow/
          cat/

verse: a wild sort of gray. a drumming
          deep
          you felt but hid in the oven.
          almost had it but at the last bell
          you forgot to hand in the exam.

tone: dancing gray. rain. blackberries.
          yeats. pagan easter.