A poem-by-poem engagement with Sylvia Plath’s Ariel and the towering mythology surrounding it.
When I am a bitch I feel in such good company.
Nice girls never gave me anything but trouble,
Eating the ground out from under me, then waving
As I fall. Pity one has to die to see how liberating
Bad can be. But what news had I of my own self?
Words landed like razors, hours tinkled, suitors arrived.
Listen, you’ll think otherwise, but I tell you, betrayal
Is your Get Out of Jail Free card. Take it,
Don’t look back. Of course you will. Look back.
We always do, we who adore the muscle
Of our cashmere cells, a cock that makes
Our knees weak. Darlings, don’t be sweet,
Or serviceable. Don’t accommodate,
Write in blood or don’t bother …