On Looking Into The Eyes Of A Demon Lover
Here are two pupils / whose moons of black
Child
❦
Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new
Whose name you meditate --
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
Little
Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical
Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.
More poems by Sylvia Plath
By Candlelight
This is winter, this is night, small love -- / A sort of black horsehair,
Jilted
My thoughts are crabbed and sallow, / My tears like vinegar,
Mirror
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. / Whatever I see I swallow immediately