Plathitudes
(a rearrangement of “Words” by Sylvia Plath)
White riderless horses whose indefatigable
striving after the stars turns to
dry hoof-taps and words travelling over the rock:
A centre drops from the eaten sap
like its later weedy skull -
greens that re-establish the road.
Wells and a pool stroke
from the tears.
Echoes them, echoes like rings
on the mirror.
Like years
off the wood
while axes like life
govern the water.
I fixed the encounter by the bottom.