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Sylvia Plath - I Want, I Want
Work rating: Low

Open-mouthed, the baby god
Immense, bald, though baby-headed,
Cried out for the mother`s dug.
The dry volcanoes cracked and split,

Sand abraded the milkless lip.
Cried then for the father`s blood
Who set wasp, wolf and shark to work,
Engineered the gannet`s beak.

Dry-eyed, the inveterate patriarch
Raised his men of skin and bone,
Barbs on the crown of gilded wire,
Thorns on the bloody rose-stem.
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