Blue

Late Friday night and I can't sleep. I've got a nasty cold and the cold medicine I took that knocked me out has worn off. Rain rain everywhere for days now and it is extremely depressing. I hate my job which it turns out is peon work for peon wages. Child support has stopped and I have to go to family court to fill out papers to get the moron I was married to investigated. I'm feeling overwhelmed and hopeless. Jack walked in on me crying and said, "I know what will make you feel better." I asked what that would be, and he said "A show called Murderers is on T.V." I burst out laughing and went to watch with him. This is the stuff that keeps me going.

If anybody has a hot job tip (editorial work preferred), email me. Even if it's in Alaska.

Black Rook in Rainy Weather

by Sylvia Plath

On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident

To set the sight on fire
In my eye, not seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.

Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Leap incandescent

Out of the kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then ---
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent

By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical,
Yet politic; ignorant

Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant

A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content

Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel.
For that rare, random descent.