• My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
    My tears like vinegar,
    Or the bitter blinking yellow
    Of an acetic star.
    Tonight the caustic wind, love,
    Gossips late and soon,
    And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
    The sour lemon moon.
    While like an early summer plum,
    Puny, green, and tart,
    Droops upon its wizened stem
    My lean, unripened heart.

    Sylvia Plath (2015). “Collected Poems”, p.266, Faber & Faber