The Hanging Man by Sylvia Plath p.369
From the Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry
Man Answers
By the rites of a passage your hair got hold of me.
I washed in her green Kanai waters like a deserted trout.
The lizard swarmed me and ripped me from the glass of the lake,
an eternity of cool blue longing, deep beneath the gleam.
Boredom pinned me too, pinned, pinned me too, mother.
If she were I, she would write what I did.
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