Behind the glass of this car The world purrs, shut-off and - TopicsExpress

Behind the glass of this car The world purrs, shut-off and gentle. And I am dark-suited and still, a member of the party, Gliding up in low gear behind the cart. And the priest is a vessel, A tarred fabric, sorry and dull, Following the coffin on its flowery cart like a beautiful woman, A crest of breasts, eyelids and lips Storming the hilltop. Then, from the barred yard, the children Smell the melt of shoe-blacking, Their faces turning, wordless and slow, Their eyes opening On a wonderful thing - Six round black hats in the grass and a lozenge of wood, And a naked mouth, red and awkward. For a minute the sky pours into the hole like plasma. There is no hope, it is given up. From Berck Plage. Sylvia Plath.

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