Jilted

❦

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

More poems by Sylvia Plath

Blameless as daylight I stood looking / At a field of horses, necks bent, manes blown,

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. / Whatever I see I swallow immediately

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing. / I want to fill it with color and ducks,

Never try to trick me with a kiss / Pretending that the birds are here to stay;