SIAMESE DREAM

i am vertical

but i would rather be horizontal.

i am not a tree with my root in the soil

sucking up minerals and motherly love

so that each march i may gleam into leaf,

nor am i the beauty of a garden bed

attracting my share of ahs and spectacularly

painted, unknowing i must soon unpetal.

compared with me, a tree is immortal

and a flower-head not tall, but more startling.

and i want the one’s longevity and the other’s daring.

tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars,

the trees and flowers have been strewing

their cool doors.

i walk among them, but none of them are noticing.

sometimes i think thwat when i am sleeping

i must most perfectly resemble them —

thoughts gone dim.

it is more natural to me, lying down.

then the sky and i are in open conversation,

and i shall be useful when i lie down finally:

then the trees may touch me for once,

and the flowers have time for me.

by sylvia plath

◊photos by amber dianda◊