Ariel: The Restored Edition

by Sylvia Plath

They had an efficiency, a great beauty, And were extravagant, like torture.

And how will your night dances Lose themselves. In mathematics?

Eye, the cauldron of morning.

Did I escape, I wonder?

Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.