Sylvia Plath

Trio Of Love Songs

(1) Major faults in granite mark a mortal lack, yet individual planet directs all zodiac. Diagram of mountains graphs a fever chart, yet astronomic fountains exit from the heart. Tempo of strict ocean metronomes the blood, yet ordered lunar motion proceeds from private flood. Drama of each season plots doom from above, yet all angelic reason moves to our minor love. (2) My love for you is more athletic than a verb, agile as a star the tents of sun absorb. Treading circus tightropes of each syllable, the brazen jackanapes would fracture if he fell. Acrobat of space, the daring adjective plunges for a phrase describing arcs of love. Nimble as a noun, he catapults in air; a planetary swoon could climax his career, but adroit conjunction eloquently shall link to his lyric action a periodic goal. (3) If you dissect a bird to diagram the tongue, you'll cut the chord articulating song. If you flay a beast to marvel at the mane, you'll wreck the rest from which the fur began. If you assault a fish to analyse the fin, your hands will crush the generating bone. If you pluck out my heart to find what makes it move, you'll halt the clock that syncopates our love.