skin to skin I could feel us
-the liquid beneath our feet,
trampling into endless vacuum,
bleak and emptied I barely
recognise your bald cry, a far sea
distant and I am no more
your mother–
you have arrived into
a morning song
Morning Song
Posted on Posted in AuthorshipTagged Ariel, art, artwork, book, Book by Women, Books, Contemporary, Diary, English, feminism, Feminist, Life, literature, Morning Song, poetry, Poetry Collection, sylvia plath, Womanhood, Writing
