Thursday, January 10, 2013

A Lament for Sylvia

A Lament for Sylvia
Regarding Sylvia Plath

She is polished by the sun,
the moon, the veils of sorrow

So hurt by, yet so in love with memories
that forge concepts into poems.

And they wax the eyes of our melancholy days—
Could we accept pages less cold to touch?

An unopened birthday gift rests on her desk
as benevolent bees sting blue stars

And death is a concept buried
beneath that future winter.


(From the book Kairos)

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