blue moles ^*

• bir sylvia plath şiiri:
  
  1
  they're out of the dark's ragbag, these two
  moles dead in the pebbled rut,
  shapeless as flung gloves, a few feet apart ---
  blue suede a dog or fox has chewed.
  one, by himself, seemed pitiable enough,
  little victim unearthed by some large creature
  from his orbit under the elm root.
  the second carcass makes a duel of the affair:
  blind twins bitten by bad nature.
  
  the sky's far dome is sane a clear.
  leaves, undoing their yellow caves
  between the road and the lake water,
  bare no sinister spaces. already
  the moles look neutral as the stones.
  their corkscrew noses, their white hands
  uplifted, stiffen in a family pose.
  difficult to imagine how fury struck ---
  dissolved now, smoke of an old war.
  
  2
  nightly the battle-snouts start up
  in the ear of the veteran, and again
  i enter the soft pelt of the mole.
  light's death to them: they shrivel in it.
  they move through their mute rooms while i sleep,
  palming the earth aside, grubbers
  after the fat children of root and rock.
  by day, only the topsoil heaves.
  down there one is alone.
  
  outsize hands prepare a path,
  they go before: opening the veins,
  delving for the appendages
  of beetles, sweetbreads, shards -- to be eaten
  over and over. and still the heaven
  of final surfeit is just as far
  from the door as ever. what happens between us
  happens in darkness, vanishes
  easy and often as each breath.
• "eski yazdıklarımı, zayıf olanlarını, dolaşımdan çekiyorum. ılık, rüzgarlı bir gecede, flu bir ayın mavi ışığında garajı toparladım. dün "the blue mole" (mavi köstebek) şiirini hoşumuza gidecek şekilde bitirdim. her yeni gün, tanrı'nın var olduğuna, giderek artan bir güç ve açıklıkla bizleri ziyaret edeceğine dair temize çekilmiş bir dua." sylvia plath - the journals of sylvia plath