Plathian

By Shragvi Yadav

Your signatures are soil to my meaning,

Perhaps, it’s the same suffering,

Perhaps, the same release.

Iron pipes, low mattresses, sunken souls—

Sinking in the waters of absurdity.

Mundane—mundane is your thought,

Mundane its rhythm—bringing me to life.

Tonight the intent is clear,

Tonight the purpose is delayed,

Tonight the sleep is mine—

The angels have all been here,

But the silence is loud—

I hear you calling my name.

I have all these words to say—

And I hear your signatures woven through my words,

The Plathian signature in my poems.

—to be infected by your name—

The most liberating sickness it is.

Your signatures are soil to my meaning,

Perhaps, it’s the same suffering,

Perhaps, the same release.

By Shragvi Yadav