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Sylvia's Red
by Angela CottermanToday, I stumbled
across Plath's poppies
Her reds strike me
bolder than blood,
and for a moment,
I became disoriented.
Then, my grandmother
moved forward and smiled,
as if she wanted to keep
death white for me. 03/07/2007 Posted on 03/07/2007
Copyright © 2024 Angela Cotterman
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/08/07 at 01:57 AM Although never a big fan of Plath's poetry, preferring Anne Sexton's domestic darkness, your poem deffinitely shines a remarkable light on Sylvia. Thansk for posting this. |
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