Plath

What do you think
that that was all
she had in her?
The table top bared
of its repast
the curio cabinet
empty
waiting for a porcelain menagerie?
remembering its previous occupants?
What is the difference?
The lock turned.
Whatever is, was, will be,
is sealed forever.
                                          see History of Poetry (Confessional Poets)

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