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An Appearance

 The smile of iceboxes annihilates me.
Such blue currents in the veins of my loved one! I hear her great heart purr.
From her lips ampersands and percent signs Exit like kisses.
It is Monday in her mind: morals Launder and present themselves.
What am I to make of these contradictions? I wear white cuffs, I bow.
Is this love then, this red material Issuing from the steele needle that flies so blindingly? It will make little dresses and coats, It will cover a dynasty.
How her body opens and shuts -- A Swiss watch, jeweled in the hinges! O heart, such disorganization! The stars are flashing like terrible numerals.
ABC, her eyelids say.

by Sylvia Plath
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