Cosmic Poetry: Vanity Fair by Sylvia Plath

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Nomnomvega cosmic orgasm sylvia plath vanity fair poem
photography by Nomnomvega

Vanity Fair by Sylvia Plath

Through frost-thick weather

This witch sidles, fingers crooked, as if
Caught in a hazardous medium that might
Merely by its continuing

Attach her to heaven.
At eye’s envious corner
Crow’s-feet copy veining on stained leaf;
Cold squint steals sky’s color; while bruit
Of bells calls holy ones, her tongue
Backtalks at the raven
Cleaving furred air
Over her skull’s midden; no knife

Rivals her whetted look, divining what conceit
Waylays simple girls, church-going,
And what heart’s oven
Craves most to cook batter

Rich in strayings with every amorous oaf,
Ready, for a trinket,
To squander owl-hours on bracken bedding,
Flesh unshriven.
Against virgin prayer
This sorceress sets mirrors enough
To distract beauty’s thought;
Lovesick at first fond song,
Each vain girl’s driven
To believe beyond heart’s flare
No fire is, nor in any book proof
Sun hoists soul up after lids fall shut;
So she wills all to the black king.
The worst sloven
Vies with best queen over

Right to blaze as satan’s wife;
Housed in earth, those million brides shriek out.
Some burn short, some long,

Staked in pride’s coven.
― Sylvia Plath, photography by Nomnomvega, cheers! ♥ #cosmicorgasm 

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