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Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath

Bluebeard
I am sending back the key
that let me into bluebeard’s study;
because he would make love to me
I am sending back the key;
in his eye’s darkroom I can see
my X-rayed heart, dissected body:
I am sending back the key
that let me into bluebeard’s study.

#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters #Suicide

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Other works by Sylvia Plath...
All the Dead Dears

In the Archæological Museum in C… coffin of the fourth century A.D.… of a woman, a mouse and a shrew. T… woman has been slightly gnawed. Rigged poker —stiff on her back
The Goatsucker

Old goatherds swear how all night… The warning whirr and burring of t… Who wakes with darkness and till d… Vampiring dry of milk each great g… Moon full, moon dark, the chary da…
Faun

Haunched like a faun, he hooed From grove of moon—glint and fen—f… Until all owls in the twigged fore… Flapped black to look and brood On the call this man made.
Elm

I know the bottom, she says. I kn… It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been the… Is it the sea you hear in me, Its dissatisfactions?
 1
Blue Moles

They’re out of the dark’s ragbag,… Moles dead in the pebbled rut, Shapeless as flung gloves, a few f… Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed… One, by himself, seemed pitiable e…
The Ghost's Leavetaking

Enter the chilly no—man’s land of about Five o’clock in the morning, the no—color void Where the waking head rubbishes out the draggled lot Of sulfurous dreamscapes and obscure lunar co...
Face Lift

You bring me good news from the cl… Whipping off your silk scarf, exhi… Mummy—cloths, smiling: I’m all ri… When I was nine, a lime—green ane… Fed me banana gas through a frog—m…
 1
The Thin People

They are always with us, the thin… Meager of dimension as the gray pe… On a movie—screen. They Are unreal, we say: It was only in a movie, it was onl…
 5
The Death of Myth

Two virtues ride, by stallion, by… To grind our knives and scissors: Lantern-jawed Reason, squat Commo… One courting doctors of all sorts, One, housewives and shopkeepers.
The Beekeeper's Daughter

A garden of mouthings. Purple, sc… The great corollas dilate, peeling… Their musk encroaches, circle afte… A well of scents almost too dense… Hieratical in your frock coat, mae…
 1
The Companionable Ills

The nose—end that twitches, the ol… Tolerable now as moles on the face Put up with until chagrin gives pl… To a wry complaisance—— Dug in first as God’s spurs
Suicide Off Egg Rock

Behind him the hotdogs split and d… On the public grills, and the ochr… Gas tanks, factory stacks– that la… Of imperfections his bowels were p… Rippled and pulsed in the glassy u…
Strumpet Song

With white frost gone And all green dreams not worth muc… After a lean day’s work Time comes round for that foul slu… Mere bruit of her takes our street
 1
I thought that I could not be hurt

I thought that I could not be hur… I thought that I must surely be impervious to suffering— immune to pain or agony.
 28
The Glutton

He, hunger—strung, hard to slake, So fitted is for my black luck (With heat such as no man could ha… And yet keep kind) That all merit’s in being meat



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