Ella Bartlett

Levitation
​After Sylvia Plath

          
Dear father deep father fear father near water beat
harder these hands of wonder heat small hinges
broad arms these wings his rings and wrings and
wrings out of his pout there on his baby face that is my
same face that is shame laced and shrug based and no
way no way no stray cats on sidewalks that said
come get / me, come by the sliding glass door thrown
and jeweled like hamstrings like fueled freight like straight
might I might my might and capture, rupt, hold, lime slice
held in the passenger seat to make ends meet. I drifted I/
rose, pressed, packed metals, wilted.

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Ella Bartlett (she/her/s) is a writer currently residing in New York City. She studies psychology and English at Barnard College and is currently working on a translation from French, which is part of a deeper curiosity about weirding language. You can find her work in decomP magazinE and Necessary Fiction, and follow her on Twitter @ellatheRewriter.