quietus on an Aegean Urn
- On Reading Edge by Sylvia Plath -
she is just a woman perfected in death.
an illusion in greek fresco
from the isle of crete.
she scorned pasiphae, she spurned the maze
minotaur. coiled gilded serpents ring her
white neck and bone wrists.
the pitcher of goat’s milk is now empty
though it is tipped slightly for the court of cups
at her left fingers.
dangling peaceful feet.
(she is finally learning to be silent.)
