It's about Sylvia Plath
she wakes in morning
to listen for the turn of a doorknob
or a stifled step
no one can tell what she’s thinking
that she wouldn’t exist without him
she was never ordinary
attempting to ignore the old difficulties
as she crawled into the empty space
to swallow pill after pill
“I am a dream you dream,” he once told her
and now she trades words for worry
love got her going
now fear holds her heart
she is a hostage- bound by unknowing
tired of sameness
she staggers to break consistency
it is that time of year
when the days last too long
and the nights are so dark that stars seem endless
mere pin pricks in the charcoal sky
it has been weeks since she’s remembered anything
she feeds the children
boards up windows and doors
and turns on the gas
she lets the air take her
as she breathes in today’s end
tomorrow holds no waking
no longer will she listen
