Short Story of the Month: April

Ariel by Sylvia Plath

By: C. Guimaraes 

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.