ARPILLERA Y POLVO

EDVARD MUNCH

ARPILLERA Y POLVO

EDVARD MUNCH

Y EL ÓBOLO BAJO LA LENGUA

          THE FEARFUL

This man makes a pseudonym

And crawls behind it like a worm.

This woman on the telephone

Says she is a man, not a woman.

The mask increases, eats the worm,

Stripes for mouth and eyes and nose,

The voice of the woman hollows—

More and more like a dead one,

Worms in the glottal stops.

She hates

The thought of a baby—

Stealer of cells, stealer of beauty—

She would rather be dead than fat,

Dead and perfect, like Nefertit,

Hearing the fierce mask magnify

The silver limbo of each eye

Where the child can never swim,

Where there is only him and him.

                                  Sylvia Plath.

ARPILLERA Y POLVO

EDVARD MUNCH