Read a poem by Sylvia Plath.
Liked it so much I copied it down
and put it up in my kitchen.
Realized, after taping it,
that I had hung her poem
directly over the oven.
At first, I thought it
a macabre joke
seeping up from my subconscious
to stain the wall like greasy smoke–
but the more I look at it there
the more I think Sylvia would have liked it.