And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love for me.
are from Sylvia Plath’s Tulips, which slightly inspired this. Although I’ve been intending to write about the vagina for a pretty long time.
Heart you’re the best part of me.
Your simple desires, your blind bloody stubborn love.
Oh all those fancy others on whom my favours fatal fell,
whose wills bent to the world
What are they, what are they now!
I understand your pain now
When mind grabs & takes me running, mind fascinates
On journeys to strange places I meekly followed in delight
To elope with a vision of us walking side by side.
But mind you got me lost and
Your contemptuous impatience waits not and
You think I hold you back;
You care more for your adventure than for me or for your safety.
Mind travel far, leave me watching far behind.
And you gut, who swells with each next great thing
Swells with each swallow, Seeks and eats great joy,
and when you are full, gut it feels so good
That I believe you might be the source of love.
But gut you are not:
you were made only to receive
you digest love into particles, and gut that’s not the same.
And then so ravenous insatiable; hungry again so soon!
So no great joy or love lasts long in you
O greedy gut.
O and o, Vagina! whose charms especially excite
Whose company so brilliant I want to be with her
All the time, she shines
Intoxicating like being on drugs
When she’s there you worship
When awake she makes the world
Incredible – I love her!
But love and worship for her leaves me spent.
I love her, I love her: she is in me, a part of me, but not me, she is not.
She is a cunt
who desires only to consume
She only desires; a self-obsessed destroyer
She loves and lords her power laughing.
She cannot, does not, love me back, O alas.
Heart, you were so quiet
How could I have known?
Your sweet simple desires, stubborn bloody love
Wanting only to be where you are, inside
Strange comfort, your quiet regular love, inside
Wanting only to keep me alive
Even if it were against my will, you’d try
Your one demand
I don’t mind that.
You know me best
Heart, my heart who
opens and closes
your bowl of red blooms out of sheer love for me.
I realised then.
Heart, o heart,
I understand your pain at last.