AnesthesiologistA Poem by Shalini RTo Sylvia Plath.I’ll take you to death’s iron door Let you mingle with the light and black Let your fingers dance in slivers of silver and fire Light you might find, fingers Long and lean now pale As the snows of the If that is what beings you Nine times hell If death brings you to the ninth life Then I may not bring you back To this world poor Daddy left. Practice your art. Just your pretty Red head and pretty Red heart, both pieces To be chuffed away. I’ll save you from black ash, black ash But oh no, you can’t save yourself. ‘cause the switch has been flipped, my dear And all that is left is my opus.
© 2008 Shalini RFeatured Review
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Added on February 10, 2008 |

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