"Burning Bowl" by She Keeps Bees
if it's all the same
I'd rather forget
burn it in a tin can
let the flame take each page
ashes in the waves
disintegrate
transform this pain
I can't transform the pain. I can't do it. I want to, but it all congeals inside me. Dead weight and darkness.
Sheep in Fog by Sylvia Plath
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the color of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells——
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.