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".