THE NIGHT BEFORE THE NIGHT THAT SYLVIA PLATH LAYS HER HEAD IN THE OVEN by Hannah Matheson

by Hannah Matheson / Monday, 11 November 2019 / Published in Issue 16, Poetry, Uncategorized

Sometimes what kills me is serene
as snowfall. Proliferating frozen,
soft inundation, the ceaseless
and so many ways of wanting

to die. I can’t sleep
for the 2 a.m. murmur
of the plows, making their rounds
for hours now, unseeing

metal sweeping and salting.
Rusted chrome in near collision,
compelled by the Sisyphean
labor of cold. To roam

the black in the absolute
zero before dawn;
imagine,

gathering and gathering and gathering the ice.

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About Hannah Matheson

Hannah Matheson is an MFA candidate in Poetry at New York University, where she is a reader and assistant social media editor for the Washington Square Review. Previously awarded scholarships to attend The Frost Place Conference on Poetry, Hannah is grateful for her first publication in Four Way Review.