„( … ) Mather, you are the one mouth
I would be a tongue to. Mather of otherness
Eat me. Wastebasket gaper, shadow of doorways.
I said: I must remember this, being small.
There were such enormous flowers,
Purple and red mouths, utterly lovely.
The hoops of blackberry stems made me ery.
Now they light me up like an electric bulb.
For weeks I can remem ber nothing at all.”
– Sylvia Plath, „Who”