Sylvia Plath
Students study her sadness
Librarians hide away her books
From clumsy, shy teenagers
While she floats like a golden lotus
Amidst fierce flames
She doesn't even remember that winter morning
When she went into her kitchen
And turned on the gas –
The world was cold on that day
Grey people, hidden sun, black moon,
Clouds were falling from the sky -
Tired of writing books,
While her life was a book,
Abandoned book with torn pages
She went into her kitchen
And turned on the gas –
She broke her bell jar,
Shut her eyes
Her face was calm,
Like a golden lotus
Amidst fierce flames
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