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More poems by Sylvia PlathSylvia Plath | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (2) | Books by Sylvia PlathBooks by Sylvia Plath

April 18

Sylvia Plath

the slime of all my yesterdays
rots in the hollow of my skull

and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation

I would not remember you

or that because of sleep
infrequent as a moon of greencheese
that because of food
nourishing as violet leaves
that because of these

and in a few fatal yards of grass
in a few spaces of sky and treetops

a future was lost yesterday
as easily and irretrievably
as a tennis ball at twilight


Submitted by Venus

Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 23 Jul 2018 1:19 PM | Viewed: 19859 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4925/ | Viewed on 23 July 2018.
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