life after plath

Life After Plath

the stray look is the sweetest,
the averment unknowingly
waited for, priceless.

it’s a gift for the millionth mirror-trip wond’ring
if the hair could stand up to scrutiny; worth it
are walks again and speaking swoon.

it is the breath that richens pale
marble cheeks a-flutter and gives
the veins a rosy tint;
the smell of bitter tea with hints
of wildwood orchids.

that you pray for someone’s heart, and feel
the inching rapt tenderness: treasure this
along with every red beat unaware,
’til inhaled that final drop of vagrant sight

and exhaled the empty air.

— A. P.

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