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Hunter/Hunted photo shooting in Trier Germany. To a Jilted Lover Cold on my narrow cot I lie and in sorrow look through my window-square of bla… Read More
Hunter/Hunted photo shooting in Trier Germany. To a Jilted Lover Cold on my narrow cot I lie and in sorrow look through my window-square of black: figured in the midnight sky, a mosaic of stars diagrams the falling years, while from the moon, my lover's eye chills me to death with radiance of his frozen faith. Once I wounded him with so small a thorn I never thought his flesh would burn or that the heat within would grow until he stood incandescent as a god; now there is nowhere I can go to hide from him: moon and sun reflect his flame. In the morning all shall be the same again: stars pale before the angry dawn; the gilded cock will turn for me the rack of time until the peak of noon has come and by that glare, my love will see how I am still blazing in my golden hell. Sylvia Plath Read Less
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Cold on my narrow cot I lie
and in sorrow look
through my window-square of black:

figured in the midnight sky,
a mosaic of stars
diagrams the falling years,

while from the moon, my lover's eye
chills me to death
with radiance of his frozen faith.
Once I wounded him with so
small a thorn
I never thought his flesh would burn
 
or that the heat within would grow
until he stood
incandescent as a god;
 
now there is nowhere I can go
to hide from him:
moon and sun reflect his flame.
In the morning all shall be
the same again:
stars pale before the angry dawn;

the gilded cock will turn for me
the rack of time
until the peak of noon has come

and by that glare, my love will see
how I am still
blazing in my golden hell.

Sylvia Plath