Tag Archives: Fever 103° by Sylvia Plath

Fever 103° by Sylvia Plath

Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerberus Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable Of licking clean The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin. The tinder cries. The … Continue reading

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