BY SYLVIA PLATH
I bought a new yellow scarf…
“A heat wave is coming to Budapest!” That is what the sales clerk told me.
… & then a white blouse,cool.
“It will be oppressive,” she said. “Close to 40. The heat will just sit in the air.”
…They will not rise,
But trundle round the globe
Choking the aged and the meek,
of salt, of grit,
In the end, whenever or wherever we lived or live, we must find the “I.”
The beads of hot metal fly, and I love, I