Outside in the street I hear
A car door slam; voices coming near;
Incoherent scraps of talk
And high heels clicking up the walk;
The doorbell rends the noonday heat
With copper claws;
...
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Such a tragic loss to the world of poetry. Rest easy good Sylvia. And thank you.
Her sound images about the imminent family reunion are convincing to me. 'A car door slam'. She feels different and on the outer at her family reunion, which is not at all uncommon. There is a hint of her future suicide: 'I cast off my identity/ And make the fatal plunge'.