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 colour 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.
-plath-
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