Poems

Waking In Winter

I can taste the tin of the sky '- the real tin thing.
Winter dawn is the color of metal,
The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves.
All night I have dreamed of destruction, annihilations '-
An assembly-line of cut throats, and you and I
Inching off in the gray Chevrolet, drinking the green
Poison of stilled lawns, the little clapboard gravestones,
Noiseless, on rubber wheels, on the way to the sea resort.

How the balconies echoed! How the sun lit up
The skulls, the unbuckled bones facing the view!
Space! Space! The bed linen was giving out entirely.
Cot legs melted in terrible attitudes, and the nurses '-
Each nurse patched her soul to a wound and disappeared.
The deathly guests had not been satisfied
With the rooms, or the smiles, or the beautiful rubber plants,
Or the sea, Hushing their peeled sense like Old Mother Morphia.



Poem topics: , , , , ,

Rate this poem:

Add Waking In Winter poem to your favorites

Add Poet Sylvia Plath to your favorites

Popular Poets

Victoria Sackville-West (2 poems)
Louisa Stuart Costello (4 poems)
Edwin Muir (3 poems)
Katharine Tynan (0 poems)
Lucy Maud Montgomery (0 poems)
Ernest Lawrence Thayer (1 poems)
George Chapman (3 poems)
Virgil (4 poems)
Florence Wilkinson (4 poems)
Margaret Junkin Preston (1 poems)

Popular Poems

O Navis, by Lope de Vega
Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 143, by Edward Taylor
Snow beneath whose chilly softness, by Emily Dickinson
If All the World Were Paper, by Anonymous Americas
The Ballad Of Pious Pete, by Robert Service
The Garden of Janus, by Aleister Crowley
The Three Foxes, by Alan Alexander Milne
1er Janvier, by Victor Marie Hugo
Call For Contributions, by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Gratification, by James McIntyre