Vox Populi
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Sylvia Plath: Morning Song
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I’m no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind’s hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat’s. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
From Collected Poems, published by HarperCollins. Copyright © 1960, 1965, 1971, 1981 by the Estate of Sylvia Plath. Reprinted in Vox Populi for educational purposes only.
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Vox Populi 
Ohhh how I love that poem. And so many of her poems. Thank you Michael!
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Yes, Plath was one of the first poets I read that I felt in my bones.
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This is a terrific poem. I love Plath. Thanks for posting.
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