Contusion
Sylvia Plath
Color floods to the spot, dull purple.
The rest of the body is all washed-out,
The color of pearl.
In a pit of rock
The sea sucks obsessively,
One hollow the whole sea’s pivot.
The size of a fly,
The doom mark
Crawls down the wall.
The heart shuts,
The sea slides back,
The mirrors are sheeted.