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