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Breakfast With Sylvia Plath

1.
in Café Insomnia, anaemic sunlight
traffic outside
the rain flecked picture window
sizzling bacon, eggs wide eyed
frying on the gas

the face by turns, almond pale and fire bright
a streak of lip paint on the brilliant teeth
she eyes the menu in a seething force-nine rage
her conversation post modern in its tangled sense
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Saturday, December 6, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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