Thursday, 27 November 2014

The Thursday Poem

Potted Flowers with Books IV
Eric Barjot


After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off from the centre 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.
From the bottom of the pool, fixed stars
Govern a life.

Sylvia Plath
(27th October 1932 - 11th February 1963)

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