---

Sylvia Plath - Poppies In October
Work rating: Medium

Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
	Nor the woman in the ambulance
	Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly —

	A gift, a love gift
	Utterly unasked for
	By a sky

	Palely and flamily
	Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
	Dulled to a halt under bowlers.

	O my God, what am I
	That these late mouths should cry open
	In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.