Russia and America circle each other; <br />Threats nudge an act that were without doubt <br />A melting of the mould in the mother, <br />Stones melting about the root. <br /> <br />The quick of the earth burned out: <br />The toil of all our ages a loss <br />With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought <br />(Not to be thought ridiculous) <br /> <br />Shies from the world-cancelling black <br />Of its playing shadow: it has learned <br />That there's no trusting (trusting to luck) <br />Dates when the world's due to be burned; <br /> <br />That the future's no calamitous change <br />But a malingering of now, <br />Histories, towns, faces that no <br />Malice or accident much derange. <br /> <br />And though bomb be matched against bomb, <br />Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure -- <br />Earth gone in an instant flare -- <br />Did a lesser death come <br /> <br />Onto the white hospital bed <br />Where one, numb beyond her last of sense, <br />Closed her eyes on the world's evidence <br />And into pillows sunk her head. <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Andrew Mayers<br /><br />Ted Hughes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-woman-unconscious/
