Sylvia Plath

Sonnet To Satan

In darkroom of your eye the moonly mind someraults to couterfeit eclipse; bright angels black out over logic's land under shutter of their handicaps. Commanding that corkscrew comet jet forth ink to pitch the white world down in swiveling flood, you overcast all order's noonday rank and turn god's radiant photograph to shade. Steepling snake in that contrary light invades the dilate lens of genesis to print your flaming image in birthspot with characters no cockcrow can deface. O maker of proud planet's negative, obscure the scalding sun till no clocks move.

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