Sylvia Plath





Balloons

Since Christmas they have lived with us, 
Guileless and clear, 
Oval soul-animals, 
Taking up half the space, 
Moving and rubbing on the silk 

Invisible air drifts, 
Giving a shriek and pop 
When attacked, then scooting to rest, barely trembling. 
Yellow cathead, blue fish-------- 
Such queer moons we live with 

Instead of dead furniture! 
Straw mats, white walls 
And these traveling 
Globes of thin air, red, green, 
Delighting 

The heart like wishes or free 
Peacocks blessing 
Old ground with a feather 
Beaten in starry metals. 
Your small 

Brother is making 
His balloon squeak like a cat. 
Seeming to see 
A funny pink world he might eat on the other side of it, 
He bites, 

Then sits 
Back, fat jug 
Contemplating a world clear as water. 
A red 
Shred in his little fist.