Lady Lazarus in the Bath

I have done it again.
One week in every seven
I ruin it.

Bones in the basin
And the sodden skin
Above it; I roll

On a beaded spine
And stain the fever liquid
With my rust.

The water in the
Curtain's shadow--
Once faucet-sweet--

Now might be the ocean's.
I leave my poppy-petal
Pigment in the tub.

These are my roots
My lashes now.
I may be tarnished silver;

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was scared.
It was an accident.

Now in voluntary
Madness I submerge,
Then, dripping my undoing, stand:

Out of the water
I rise with my wet hair
And only ashes to wear.

original poem here.
photograph by Pennie Naylor.


Anonymous said...

the lawyer for the estate of sylvia plath oughta be calling any day now

Kate Horowitz said...

And why is that? You don't suppose the Lady was a natural redhead, do you? Even a phoenix needs a zippo every once in a while.

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