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Sylvia Plath - Lady Lazarus
Work rating: High

	I have done it again.
	  One year in every ten
	  I manage it——
	 
	  A sort of walking miracle, my skin
	  Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
	  My right foot
	 
	  A paperweight,
	  My face a featureless, fine
	  Jew linen.
	 
	  Peel off the napkin
	  0 my enemy.
	  Do I terrify?——
	 
	  The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
	  The sour breath
	  Will vanish in a day.
	 
	  Soon, soon the flesh
	  The grave cave ate will be
	  At home on me
	 
	  And I a smiling woman.
	  I am only thirty.
	  And like the cat I have nine times to die.
	 
	  This is Number Three.
	  What a trash
	  To annihilate each decade.
	 
	  What a million filaments.
	  The peanut-crunching crowd
	  Shoves in to see
	 
	  Them unwrap me hand and foot
	  The big strip tease.
	  Gentlemen, ladies
	 
	  These are my hands
	  My knees.
	  I may be skin and bone,
	 
	  Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
	  The first time it happened I was ten.
	  It was an accident.
	 
	  The second time I meant
	  To last it out and not come back at all.
	  I rocked shut
	 
	  As a seashell.
	  They had to call and call
	  And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
	 
	  Dying
	  Is an art, like everything else,
	  I do it exceptionally well.
	 
	  I do it so it feels like hell.
	  I do it so it feels real.
	  I guess you could say I`ve a call.
	 
	  It`s easy enough to do it in a cell.
	  It`s easy enough to do it and stay put.
	  It`s the theatrical
	 
	  Comeback in broad day
	  To the same place, the same face, the same brute
	  Amused shout:
	 
	  `A miracle!`
	  That knocks me out.
	  There is a charge
	 
	  For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
	  For the hearing of my heart——
	  It really goes.
	 
	  And there is a charge, a very large charge
	  For a word or a touch
	  Or a bit of blood
	 
	  Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
	  So, so, Herr Doktor.
	  So, Herr Enemy.
	 
	  I am your opus,
	  I am your valuable,
	  The pure gold baby
	 
	  That melts to a shriek.
	  I turn and burn.
	  Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
	 
	  Ash, ash —-
	  You poke and stir.
	  Flesh, bone, there is nothing there——
	 
	  A cake of soap,
	  A wedding ring,
	  A gold filling.
	 
	  Herr God, Herr Lucifer
	  Beware
	  Beware.
	 
	  Out of the ash
	  I rise with my red hair
	  And I eat men like air.
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