There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself —
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.
A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world,
There is only sourness.
This red wall winces continually:
A red fist, opening and closing,
Two grey, papery bags —
This is what i am made of, this, and a terror
Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pieties.
On a black wall, unidentifiable birds
Swivel their heads and cry.
There is no talk of immorality amoun these!
Cold blanks approach us:
They move in a hurry.
(Sylvia Plath)
More Poetry from Sylvia Plath:
Sylvia Plath Poems based on Topics: Light, World, Cry, Mind, Angels, Infinity- Mushrooms (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- A Lesson In Vengeance (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- Fever 103° (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- The Bee Meeting (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- Dialogue Between Ghost And Priest (Sylvia Plath Poems)
- Pheasant (Sylvia Plath Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: World Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Cry Poems, Angels Poems, Infinity PoemsBased on Keywords: dissolves, continually, blanks, medium, clawed, spiral, swivel, winces, papery, untouchable, sourness