Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free ---- The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage — My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
Tulips Sylvia Plath Essay
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
In more human terms, this means that whenever you buy a book on Amazon from a link on here, I receive a small percentage of its price.
One of the running themes in many of Sylvia Plath's poems is that of death, dying, and rebirth.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.