Cut (Sylvia Plath Poems)
for Susan O'Neill Roe What a thrill ---- My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for ...
for Susan O'Neill Roe What a thrill ---- My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for ...
They are always with us, the thin people Meager of dimension as the gray people On a movie-screen. They Are ...
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people. Where do the black trees go that drink here? Their shadows must ...
It is no night to drown in: A full moon, river lapsing Black beneath bland mirror-sheen, The blue water-mists dropping ...
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