Christine Aletti

SYLVIA PLATH: GASLIGHT LEFT ON

I waited by the phone for you to call
the coals from burning, burning off the bed.
I suppose I never knew you at all.

When clouds' rims reddened, rope began to fall
& overanalyzed lies swayed and pled.
I waited by the phone for you to call.

Itch my anger, the skin's started to crawl;
Crack the coating, the olive oil's bled.
I suppose I never knew you at all.

In the street, villagers started a small
affair, stomping and singing, but instead,
I waited by the phone for you to call.

There’s no enamel left here to enthrall;
Stroke heaven’s match on its gelatin head.
I suppose I never knew you at all.

This little note was just what I could scrawl:
I’m sorry. I didn't mean what I said.
I waited by the phone for you to call.
I suppose I never knew you at all.


Christine reads "Sylvia Plath: Gaslight Left On":




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Christine confesses: "This poem was influenced by Plath's famous villanelle, "Mad Girl's Love Song", which I was teaching to my 9th graders. Depression, obsession, rumination are these negative energetic forces that wonderfully collide within the poet's world to create powerful art—"Sylvia Plath: Gaslight Left On" is the examination of the romantic and psychological vortexes that may have led to her suicide."

CHRISTINE ALETTI holds an M.F.A. from Sarah Lawrence College and has taught creative writing to at-risk youths in both Florida and New York. She balances the obsessive art of writing with yoga, dog-speak, and cooking.