11.2.09

Words

Axes 
After whose stroke the wood rings, 
And the echoes! 
Echoes traveling 
Off from the center like horses. 
-----
The sap 
Wells like tears, like the 
Water striving 
To re-establish its mirror 
Over the rock 
-----
That drops and turns, 
A white skull, 
Eaten by weedy greens. 
Years later I 
Encounter them on the road--- 
-----
Words dry and riderless, 
The indefatigable hoof-taps. 
While 
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars 
Govern a life.
-----
Sylvia Plath

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