This installment is about Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath (1932-1963).
My introduction to Plath, like so many other people, was The Bell Jar, which I read in (I think) my late teens. I studied some of her poems at university, including this one, but I think I might have read them before that.
This again is a poem that just spoke to me.
I have done it again
One year in every ten
I manage it
I love the way she uses language:
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
I love the attitude she portrays:
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.
And I love the ending:
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
It’s just a poem that appealed to me instantly, and still does.
