Berck-Plage (Sylvia Plath Poems)
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
(1) This is the sea, then, this great abeyance. How the sun's poultice draws on my inflammation. Electrifyingly-colored sherbets, scooped ...
The day you died I went into the dirt, Into the lightless hibernaculum Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep ...
It happens. Will it go on? ---- My mind a rock, No fingers to grip, no tongue, My god the ...
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