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Sylvia Plath - Crystal Gazer
Work rating: Low

Gerd sits spindle-shaped in her dark tent,
Lean face gone tawn with seasons ,
Skin worn down to the knucklebones
At her tough trade; without time`s taint
The burnished ball hangs fire in her hands, a lens
Fusing time`s three horizons.

Two enter to tap her sight, a green pair
Fresh leaved out in vows: `Come tell
How we shall do together,
Well or ill.` Gerd slants a look at each: most dear,
Each to the other; fit fiber for stern weather.
Slowly she spins the ball:

`I see two stalwart apple trees
Coupled by branches intertwined
And, springing all about,
Staunch saplings; to this house, thriving days
Will bring crop`s increase, and harvest fruit
Follow on kind wind.`

`No hardship then?` he asks. `We`ll take
Whatever trial`s to come, so say true.`
His bride echoes his word. At that,
Gerd whirls the ball ablaze: `Rough storm,` she grunts, ` may wreak
Some havoc on tender limb, and yet
Strengthen that orchard thereby.`

Their small price paid, these wedded ones
Walk forth into sun-moneyed air, quickened
To savor their span of flourishing.
Aloof, squatting mummy-wise, Gerd scans
That clairvoyant quartz which once, at her own wishing,
Exacted her first simple sight for this strict second.

Then, a free-gadding hoyden, Gerd had craved
To govern more sight than given to a woman
By wits alone: to foresee her lover`s faith
And their future lot, she braved
Church curse to ken that crooked oath
Whereby one hires a demon.

A flash like doomcrack rent night`s black:
God`s work stood anchored in that glare
Focusing all time`s day-suns in one
So beggar Gerd might aim her look
At gorgon-prospects with power to strike to stone
Hearts of those who pierced time`s core.

What Gerd saw then engraved her mind —-
Plague-pitted as the moon: each bud
Shriveling to cinders at its source,
Each love blazing blind to its gutted end —-
And, fixed in the crystal center, grinning fierce:
Earth`s ever-green death`s head.
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