Stability Is a Feeling
a found poem: The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
I am doing nothing with my exile
of a life.
I go to the supermarket Saturday
on walks in the wilderness
of America on Sunday. I get thin.
I encourage the man I married
to work hard
at a career I don’t admire.
He is not sweet or funny.
He is as steady and strong as death.
I find myself horrified
of the future; the woman I want to be
is implausible. Voicing
my tender ideas is not possible.
The book of poems inside me
is desperate for morning.
Copyright © 2023 by Nazifa Islam. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on July 12, 2023, by the Academy of American Poets.