Bare feet on linoleum

Stay on your path Sylvia Plath
don’t fall away like all the others

Don’t take all your secrets alone to your watery grave about
lovers and mother

The secrets you keep will keep you in deep like Father and Amy
and brother
And all of the people you meet on the street will reiterate lies
that she uttered

Leave me in peace I cry
late at night on a slow boat bound for Catalina for no reason

Tiny beads of sweat dot my forehead
could be mistaken for dew drops if this were photo season.

But alas this is a real life – and it’s been a real fight just to
keep my mind from committing treason.
Why you ask?
Because she told the towns people I was crazy and the lies they
started to believe them

But anyway – I’ve moved on now

And now that I’ve gone scorched earth
I’m left wondering where to go from here.
To Sonoma where the fires have just left?
South Dakota ?

Would standing in front of Mount Rushmore feel like the Great
American homecoming I never had?

Would the magnitude of the scale of the sculpture take the place
of the warm embrace I’ve never known.

Or should I just be here now
In the kitchen
Bare feet on linoleum
Bored – but not unhappy
Cutting vegetables over boiling water that I will later turn
into stew

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