Edge (Sylvia Plath Poems)
The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in ...
The woman is perfected Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in ...
Somebody is shooting at something in our town -- A dull pom, pom in the Sunday street. Jealousy can open ...
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