“What is the name of that color?” the speaker of “Berck-Plage” asks as she sees the earth into which Percy Key will be lowered. She answers herself in another succession of noun phrases, this time images of post-traumatic aftermath: “Old blood of caked walls the sun heals, / Old blood of limb stumps, burnt hearts.” If the immediate artery spurt of the blood jet is poetry (“Kindness”), then these images of old blood on healed walls, old blood of earlier amputations (such as Plath’s father’s), and calcined hearts from a fire now cold, tell us that Plath sees the possibility of a style that is not a present-tense outburst resembling a jet from a living wound but a style that is more diagnostic, more measured, speaking after the fact about the caked walls, the stitched stump, the charred heart...