This man makes a pseudonym <br />And crawls behind it like a worm. <br /> <br />This woman on the telephone <br />Says she is a man, not a woman. <br /> <br />The mask increases, eats the worm, <br />Stripes for mouth and eyes and nose, <br /> <br />The voice of the woman hollows—- <br />More and more like a dead one, <br /> <br />Worms in the glottal stops. <br />She hates <br /> <br />The thought of a baby—- <br />Stealer of cells, stealer of beauty—- <br /> <br />She would rather be dead than fat, <br />Dead and perfect, like Nefertit, <br /> <br />Hearing the fierce mask magnify <br />The silver limbo of each eye <br /> <br />Where the child can never swim, <br />Where there is only him and him.<br /><br />Sylvia Plath<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fearful-2/
