This lady here's no kin of mine,
yet kin she is: she'll suck
Blood and whistle my narrow clean
To prove it.

As I think now of her hand,
From the mercury-backed glass
Mother, grandmother, greatgrandmother
Reach hag hands to haul me in,
And an image looms under the fishpond surface
Where the daft father went down
With orange duck-feet winnowing this hair -

'All the Dead Dears' by Sylvia Plath

10 tracks