Blogging friends, there is so much going on here, one way or another, that reluctantly I realise I will have to take a brief blogging break. I should be back at the beginning of the week after next. I’ll try to catch up on my blog reading, too.
I’ve just finished reading the outstandingly good biography of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes by Janet Malcolm, entitled The Silent Woman. So in my absence I leave you with Ted Hughes’ poem that commemorates the iconic moment when Hughes first kissed Plath and in return she bit him on the cheek. You’d think they might both have drawn some conclusions from that.
He loved her and she loved him. His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to He had no other appetite She bit him she gnawed him she sucked She wanted him complete inside her Safe and sure forever and ever Their little cries fluttered into the curtains Her eyes wanted nothing to get away Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows He gripped her hard so that life Should not drag her from that moment He wanted all future to cease He wanted to topple with his arms round her Off that moment's brink and into nothing Or everlasting or whatever there was Her embrace was an immense press To print him into her bones His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace Where the real world would never come Her smiles were spider bites So he would lie still till she felt hungry His words were occupying armies Her laughs were an assassin's attempts His looks were bullets daggers of revenge His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets His whispers were whips and jackboots Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks And their deep cries crawled over the floors Like an animal dragging a great trap His promises were the surgeon's gag Her promises took the top off his skull She would get a brooch made of it His vows pulled out all her sinews He showed her how to make a love-knot Her vows put his eyes in formalin At the back of her secret drawer Their screams stuck in the wall Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs In their dreams their brains took each other hostage In the morning they wore each other's face. p.s. Sorry about the horrid typeface - I'm still wrestling with wordpress....