After Auschwitz

as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
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.
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.

And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.

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.

I beg the Lord not to hear.

by Anne Sexton

Comments (16)

Death scratching its, LOL.
This one hits hard for me as it causes us to reflect on the state of man and whether or not his impact is good, if there is an impact to even make in the first place.
death's not as bad as Nazis, so put 'death' where 'Nazis' is and vice versa
This is just another reason Anne is on the top 5 of my favorite poets list.... What an incredible mind... So many great comments below. But Stephen Anne was manic-depressive all of her life, which really doesn't make her crazy, She spent her formidable years living through WWII and finding out with everyone else the atrocities taking place in Europe. Mania-depression can alter the person's perception. What I find so beautiful is my own interpretation of the way she relays her perceptions. Again, what an incredible mind. I must agree with Mc Donald, great damn piece!
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