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After Auschwitz

Anger,

as black as a hook,

overtakes me.

Each day,

each ****

took, at 8:00 A.M., a baby

and sauteed him for breakfast

in his frying pan.

 

And death looks on with a casual eye

and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.

 

Man is evil,

I say aloud.

Man is a flower

that should be burnt,

I say aloud.

Man

is a bird full of mud,

I say aloud.

 

And death looks on with a casual eye

and scratches his ****

 

Man with his small pink toes,

with his miraculous fingers

is not a temple

but an outhouse,

I say aloud.

Let man never again raise his teacup.

Let man never again write a book.

Let man never again put on his shoe.

Let man never again raise his eyes,

on a soft July night.

Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.

I say those things aloud.

Written by
Anne Sexton
1928-1974 / Female / American
Lines·Words
32·146
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