Monday, November 22, 2010

Plath


Ariel

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances.

God's lioness,
How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees!--The furrow

Splits and passes, sister to
The brown arc
Of the neck I cannot catch,

Nigger-eye
Berries cast dark
Hooks----

Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.
Something else

Hauls me through air----
Thighs, hair;
Flakes from my heels.

White
Godiva, I unpeel----
Dead hands, dead stringencies.

And now I
Foam to wheat, a glitter of seas.
The child's cry

Melts in the wall.
And I
Am the arrow,

The dew that flies,
Suicidal, at one with the drive
Into the red

Eye, the cauldron of morning.

3 comments:

  1. Every time I go to the book sales, I am always in search for books by Plath but I never find them. I guess people don't like to give them away.
    I studied in the same college as she in Cambridge, and I even visited the room where she stayed. :)

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  2. Gorgeous metaphor at the end, too--"Eye, the cauldron of morning." Just beautiful--

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