Reading Aloud (#24): Sylvia Plath's "Morning Song"

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a draft museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more you mother
Than the cloud that distils a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

[Credit: Ariel (1965), pg. 1]

Listening to Z. Smith: Talk to Me w/ Gemma Sieff (2011)

Reading Barthes: The Double Structure of Allure in Camera Lucida (1980)