May 1952
“I remember a cool river beach and a May night full of rain held in far clouds, moonly sparks saying on the water, and the close, dank, heavy wetness of green vegetation.
The water was cold to my bare feet, and the mud oozed up between my toes. He ran then, on the sand, and I ran after him. My hair long and damp, blowing free across my mouth.
I could feel the inevitable magnetic polar forces in us, and the tidal blood beat loud, loud, roaring in my ears, slowing and rhythmic. He paused then, I behind him, arms locked around the powerful ribs, fingers caressing him. To lie, with him, to lie with him, burning forgetful in the delicious animal fire.”
—Sylvia Plath
You can find this excerpt in The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, by Sylvia Plath, ed. Karen V. Kukil (p. 52)