Tuesday, April 5, 2011

I once knew a beautiful bird.

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

Both of you are great light borrowers.
Her O-mouth grieves at the world; yours is unaffected,

And your first gift is making stone out of everything.
I wake to a mausoleum; you are here,
Ticking your fingers on the marble table, looking for cigarettes,
Spiteful as a woman, but
not so nervous,
And dying to say something unanswerable.

The moon, too, abuses her subjects,
But in the daytime she is ridiculous.
Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand,
Arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity,
White and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide.

No day is safe from news of you,
Walking about in Africa maybe, but
thinking of me.

"The Rival" by Sylvia Plath
photographs by Aëla Labbé


Anonymous said...

Oh, Plath is one of my very, very favourites. And these pictures are amazing! I love the first one especially. Thank you for your lovely lovely comment on my blog :) xx

elly said...

Oh gosh. This is lovely, lovely!

tara nissl said...

sylvia plath write so well, i love her work.
and this post is beautiful!

amy said...

I adore Sylvia Plath. What a soul she had. What a deep enchantment and sadness found by her words.

I love your blog. So happy to have found you. I want to thank you for your language, and imagery. It's awe-inspiring

Big hugs

hope to hear from you*
love amy ^.^

Junaluska said...

Love Sylvia Plath, love these pictures.