I Will Not be Plath

Written by: Jennifer Cahill


Winter buries deep with virgin snows 

Lands white as the frozen 

Skies cradling the edges of the earth 

  



As it spins around their lives- 

 

Cracked coffee cups, 

Emptied as the conversation ceases, 

Her smile suspended. 

  

As he tries to caress her chapped fingers 

she withdraws, and a door opens-

she says "the wind".