Sylvia Plath - Poppies in July
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| English Poem | |
| |
| Sylvia Plath - Poppies in July | |
|---|---|
| Subject | English |
| Section | Poetry |
| Paper | 2 |
| Poet | Sylvia Plath |
| On syllabus | 2007, 2008 |
| Note | |
Contents |
The Poem
- Little poppies, little hell flames,
- Do you do no harm?
- You flicker. I cannot touch you.
- I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.
- And it exhausts me to watch you
- Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.
- A mouth just bloodied.
- Little bloody skirts!
- There are fumes that I cannot touch.
- Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?
- If I could bleed, or sleep! -------------
- If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!
- Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
- Dulling and stilling.
- But colorless. Colorless.
