Tuesday, November 29, 2011

excerpt from 'the babysitters' by sylvia plath

The bold gulls dove as if they owned it all.
We picked up sticks of driftwood and beat them off,
Then stepped down the steep beach shelf and into the water.
We kicked and talked. The thick salt kept us up.
I see us floating there yet, inseparable—two cork dolls.
What keyhole have we slipped through, what door has shut?
The shadows of the grasses inched round like hands of a clock,
And from our opposite continents we wave and call.
Everything has happened.

you don't here

in these fields
you don't hear
traffic or the
lights just that
of wind
to be felt after
its gone