Morning Song
BY SYLVIA PLATH
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
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##https://goodstudy.org/poem-october-dylan/
##https://goodstudy.org/morning-song-by-sylvia-plath-analysis/
##https://goodstudy.org/morning-song/
##https://goodstudy.org/poem-in-october-by-dylan-thomas-analysis/
##https://goodstudy.org/poem-in-october/
##https://goodstudy.org/poem-october/
##https://goodstudy.org/the-waste-land-poem-summary-by-t-s-eliot/
