Reading Plath in the Bathtub
“The tub exists behind our back/ its glittering surfaces are blank and true.”
-Sylvia Plath, “Tale of a Tub”
-Sylvia Plath, “Tale of a Tub”
Baby-pink razor suction-cupped to the wall
of linoleum above my head, I close
my eyes and pretend I am soaking in
sparkling porcelain. I wish clawed feet,
metal and steady, were beneath me. I wish
the water was deep enough to submerge
myself. Instead, it laps around my stomach.
My hips are wedged tightly against the bleached
plastic. What kind of tub did Sylvia soak in?
I imagine a vast tide of shimmer, a steamed
room, red velvet towels perched
like rooks next to a ceramic sink. I open
my eyes and put her blue-spined words on the toilet
seat. I sink into myself, stare up
at the showerhead. Its underbelly is cracked
down the middle.
We never notice things until they are split open.
of linoleum above my head, I close
my eyes and pretend I am soaking in
sparkling porcelain. I wish clawed feet,
metal and steady, were beneath me. I wish
the water was deep enough to submerge
myself. Instead, it laps around my stomach.
My hips are wedged tightly against the bleached
plastic. What kind of tub did Sylvia soak in?
I imagine a vast tide of shimmer, a steamed
room, red velvet towels perched
like rooks next to a ceramic sink. I open
my eyes and put her blue-spined words on the toilet
seat. I sink into myself, stare up
at the showerhead. Its underbelly is cracked
down the middle.
We never notice things until they are split open.
Sadie Shuck Hinkel is a poet and teacher from the Midwest. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Yes Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, and Maudlin House. She lives with her husband Skyler and her cat Charlie.