FROM OUR BODIES FLOWERS WILL GROW
120 x 90 cm
I am vertical
But I would rather be horizontal. I am not a tree with my root in the soil . Sucking up minerals and motherly love . So that each March I may gleam into leaf. Nor am I the beauty of a garden bed. Attracting my share of Ahs and spectacularly painted. Unknowing I must soon unpetal. Compared with me, a tree is immortal . And a flower-head not tall, but more startling, And I want the one's longevity and the other's daring.
Tonight, in the infinitesimal light of the stars.
The trees and the flowers have been strewing their cool odors. I walk among them, but none of them are noticing. Sometimes I think that when I am sleeping I must most perfectly resemble them -- Thoughts gone dim. It is more natural to me, lying down. Then the sky and I are in open conversation. And I shall be useful when I lie down finally: Then the trees may touch me for once, and the flowers have time for me.
Sylvia Plath