Poet in Residence Sylvia Plath in London January 1963 Inside the flat she rents she lives in a moon mirror. She subsists on hot words broiled under the cold dawns. At night by candle-light she counts the shadows dancing on the white walls before her sleeping time. In the grey winter morning she parts the window curtains. She peers down at heads wrapped in scarves, at legs shuffling footless in the snow. In the dark of afternoon she watches faceless forms crossing streets. They crease the freezing ruts in her forehead as she turns away.copyright: Kentucky Poetry Review
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