Monday, August 21, 2017


By Silvia Plath

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams
Earless and eyeless

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies.

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.


  1. I like how each line is five syllables.
    I like how 'soft fists' can be so subversive.
    I'm just really jealous and wish I'd written it myself.

  2. I particularly like the last verse

    we shall by morning
    inherit the earth
    our foot's in the door