ARROW

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 the morning.

Ariel (fragmento), Sylvia Plath.