Email news@statisticool.com to sign up to receive news and updates

Found Poetry 555

2/13/21

the final machine pulses
after its number supper
a ruined breath of smog
flying over a tongue of spurs
its reason was suicidal
so with immense flickers
reflecting on a silver breastplate
power is slapped from it

This poem was created from Sylvia Plath's collected works. Click here to get a book of Plath's poems.

Please anonymously VOTE on the content you have just read:

Like:
Dislike:

Please show me a randomly selected poem






If you enjoyed any of my content, please consider supporting it in a variety of ways: