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.
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.
ReplyDeleteI studied in the same college as she in Cambridge, and I even visited the room where she stayed. :)
That is awesome.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous metaphor at the end, too--"Eye, the cauldron of morning." Just beautiful--
ReplyDelete