Over your body the clouds go <br />High, high and icily <br />And a little flat, as if they <br /> <br />Floated on a glass that was invisible <br />Unlike swans, <br />Having no reflections; <br /> <br />Unlike you, <br />With no strings attached. <br />All cool, all blue. Unlike you —- <br /> <br />You, there on your back, <br />Eyes to the sky. <br />The spider-men have caught you, <br /> <br />Winding and twining their petty fetters, <br />Their bribes —- <br />So many silks. <br /> <br />How they hate you. <br />They converse in the valley of your fingers, they are inchworms. <br />They would have you sleep in their cabinets, <br /> <br />This toe and that toe, a relic. <br />Step off! <br />Step off seven leagues, like those distances <br /> <br />That revolve in Crivelli, untouchable. <br />Let this eye be an eagle, <br />The shadow of his lip, an abyss.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gulliver-3/
