Poetry: ‘Nostalgia’


For Sylvia Plath

More alive somehow
In my child’s imagination.
The same imagination
That makes me fear
Linda Blair’s make-up.

Demon-touch lust:
Let’s fuck.
A mannish take on play.
She always gives way,

My victim’s twin sister.
Every mannequin kissed
Alive in my childish imagination.
The same imagination
That drove me to love

My victim’s twin. Sisters.
Fucked over distance
Without choice,
Without noise,
Save infant screams of protest.

Shall I continue?
I’m wed to the metonym.
These childhood acts of adult actions…
Bless him. Forgive him. But leave him
His toy. That imagination needs not.

-Unseen Flirtations

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  1. Hey JBO this is deep! I just started The Bell Jar. How are you? CLZ

    1. Hey! We need to catch up! We can discuss poetry and the old school days. Really good to hear from you! I didn’t even know you were getting these posts. Definitely read ‘Ariel’ when you get a chance. The definition of deep.

      Speak soon I hope,


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