Poems by Sylvia Plath
Magi
... They're The real thing, all right: the Good, the True ...
The Munich Mannequins
... Me and you. So, in their sulfur loveliness, in their smiles ...
Medusa
... Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, ...
Crossing The Water
... The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes ...
The Tour
... Though it looks like a cat, with its fluffy stuff, pure white ...
Spider
... Then briskly scaled his altar tiered with tethered ants, ...
April 18
... because of some explicable phenomenon ...
All The Dead Dears
... Deadlocked with them, taking roots as cradles rock ...
Heavy Woman
... Looping wool, doing nothing in particular, ...
The Rival
... Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes, ...
Night Shift
... Without stop those greased machines, ...
Alicante Lullaby
... Crack-throated mistress of bagpipes and cymbals, ...
Candles
... They should have gone out with the balloon flights and the stereopticon ...
Admonition
... To find what makes it move, ...
The Dispossessed
... the enormous mortgage must be paid somehow: ...
