Sylvia Plath's "The Outhouse In Winter"

 Sylvia Plath's The Outhouse In Winter.

===A POEM===
 Laika Pupkino ~~~ 2009.

Beneath skeletal sycamores
The outhouse in winter sits alone
Too icy to bear bear bottoms but
Leaving such dark matter to this caucus of chamber pots
That all ashine around a rosy fire glows.

This Yuletide scene
Vapid and tender behind the harried storm windows
Their inner glass white-cocooned
By a whore's perfume
Of basil and cranberry and Hiroshima'd suckling pig.
Crosby croons, oleagenous
And heart cockles bask in gemutlich bliss,

As Uncle Death
Every family's own hale fellow buffoon
Sits ignored in the corner
Flushfaced and self contained
Strumming on his five and dime ukelele
And braying forth his doltish but
Ultimately, inexorably
Inevitable ditty...

Hi there, I'm Sylvia Plath.
Sure wish they had Prozac
In my time.


[The above poem one of those waking up at 2 a.m. sudden inspiration deals...
Funny, I always say I can't do free verse, but here where it's a parody
of someone else's style/themes it was a piece of cake. ~~~Laika]





Outhouse in Winter

Sounds like you were raised in my neck of the woods.


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