The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B.
Once you were beautiful.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
--From the poem "Lady Lazarus", written 23-29 October 1962
Tags: depression lady-lazarus
Now I am silent, hate
Up to my neck,
Thick, thick.
I do not speak.
--from "Lesbos", written 18 October 1962
The box is only temporary.
Sylvia PlathPeople or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
From the poem "Sheep in Fog", 2 December 1962
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.
Clouds pass and disperse.
Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?
Is it for such I agitate my heart?
I am incapable of more knowledge.
What is this, this face
So murderous in its strangle of branches? -
Its snaky acids kiss.
It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults
That kill, that kill, that kill.
From the poem "Elm", 19 April 1962
No day is safe from news of you.
--from "The Rival", written July 1961
I used to pray to recover you.
--from "Daddy", written 12 October 1962
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
–-from "Daddy", written 12 October 1962
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