Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Another Poem with Another Mirror !

+JMJ+

Just when you thought the only one you had to worry about seeing in a mirror was Bloody Mary . . .

Mirror
by Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see, I swallow immediately.
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike
I am not cruel, only truthful –
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

I read this poem with a tutee earlier in the school year and now it is one of my favourite Plath poems of all time.

2 comments:

bearing said...

That's a good poem.

But whenever I think of Sylvia Plath, I think of a refrigerator magnet that a friend of mine had. It bore a cartoon drawing of a bathtub and said:

"There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them." -- Sylvia Plath

And I always thought that was not actually a very inspirational quote, considering the source. I mean -- I guess when the hot bath doesn't work, you try the cold oven! Let's put that on a coffee mug!

Jessica (BookLover) said...

What a wonderful poem! Thanks for sharing - it's now being added to my round-up of favorites. :)