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the moon was a fat woman once - sylvia plath كلمات أغنية

they are always with us, the thin people
meager of dimension as the gray people

on a movie_screen. they
are unreal, we say:

it was only in a movie, it was only
in a war making evil headlines when we

were small that they famished and
grew so lean and would not round

out their stalky limbs again though peace
plumped the bellies of the mice

under the meanest table
it was during the long hunger_battle

they found their talent to persevere
in thinness, to come, later

into our bad dreams, their menace
not guns, not abuses

but a thin silence
wrapped in flea_ridded donkey skins
empty of complaint, forever
drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore

the insufferable nimbus of the lot_drawn
scapegoat. but so thin

so weedy a race could not remain in dreams
could not remain outlandish victims

in the contracted country of the head
any more than the old woman in her mud hut could

keep from cutting fat meat
out of the side of the generous moon when it

set foot nightly in her yard
until her knife had pared

the moon to a rind of little light
now the thin people do not obliterate

themselves as the dawn
grayness blues, reddens, and the outline

of the world comes clear and fills with color
they persist in the sunlit room: the wallpaper
frieze of cabbage_roses and cornflowers pales
under their thin_lipped smiles

their withering kingship
how they prop each other up!

we own no wilderness rich and deep enough
for stronghold against their stiff

battalions. see, how the tree boles flatten
and lose their good browns

if the thin people simply stand in the forest
making the world go thin as a wasp’s nest

and grayer; not even moving their bones

- the moon was a fat woman once

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