Where the three magenta
Breakwaters take the shove
And suck of the grey seaTo the left, and the wave
Unfists against the dun
Barb-wired headland ofThe Deer Island prison
With its trim piggeries,
Hen huts and cattle greenTo the right, and March ice
Glazes the rock pools yet,
Snuff-colored sand cliffs riseOver a great stone spit
Bared by each falling tide,
And you, across those whiteStones, strode out in you dead
Black coat, black shoes, and your
Black hair till there you stood,Fixed vortex on the far
Tip, riveting stones, air,
All of it, together.
YOU ARE READING
Sylvia Plath Poetry
PoetrySylvia Plath Poetry is a book filled with the content of Sylvia Plath's poems. Sylvia Plath was an American poet, novelist, and short story writer. Plath's work often was singled out for the intense coupling of its violent or disturbed imagery and...