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  • Sylvia Plath

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    Terrell Proctor
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    The poem describes cutting off a thumb with a knife. In three sentences, it summarizes: The speaker cuts off their thumb, describing the gruesome sight of the severed thumb stump flapping like a hat. Upon seeing the red flesh underneath, the speaker clutches a bottle of pink fizz, celebrating the act. The cut thumb is personified as a "pilgrim" who has had their "scalp axed" by an "Indian's ax."

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    Original Title

    Cut

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    The poem describes cutting off a thumb with a knife. In three sentences, it summarizes: The speaker cuts off their thumb, describing the gruesome sight of the severed thumb stump flapping like a hat. Upon seeing the red flesh underneath, the speaker clutches a bottle of pink fizz, celebrating the act. The cut thumb is personified as a "pilgrim" who has had their "scalp axed" by an "Indian's ax."

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    285 views3 pages

    Sylvia Plath

    Uploaded by

    Terrell Proctor
    The poem describes cutting off a thumb with a knife. In three sentences, it summarizes: The speaker cuts off their thumb, describing the gruesome sight of the severed thumb stump flapping like a hat. Upon seeing the red flesh underneath, the speaker clutches a bottle of pink fizz, celebrating the act. The cut thumb is personified as a "pilgrim" who has had their "scalp axed" by an "Indian's ax."

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOC, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    of 3

    Cut

    by Sylvia Plath

    For Susan O'Neill Roe

    What a thrill ---

    My thumb instead of an onion.

    The top quite gone

    Except for a sort of a hinge

    Of skin,

    A flap like a hat,

    Dead white.

    Then that red plush.

    Little pilgrim,

    The Indian's axed your scalp.

    Your turkey wattle

    Carpet rolls

    Straight from the heart.

    I step on it,

    Clutching my bottle

    Of pink fizz.

    A celebration, this is.

    Out of a gap

    A million soldiers run,

    Redcoats, every one.

    Whose side are they on?

    O my

    Homunculus, I am ill.

    I have taken a pill to kill

    The thin

    Papery feeling.

    Saboteur,

    Kamikaze man ---

    The stain on your

    Gauze Ku Klux Klan

    Babushka

    Darkens and tarnishes and when

    The balled

    Pulp of your heart

    Confronts its small

    Mill of silence

    How you jump ---

    Trepanned veteran,

    Dirty girl,

    Thumb stump.

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