The Sylvia Plath Forum

Poems inspired by Sylvia Plath


This is the house of death,
where I lay my hands to rest on a funeral pyre -
smoke rising from the sooty ash
a phoenix taking flight into darkness -

Madness - is it contagious among the survivors of the sick?

Or harbored in the blood shared between sisters, aunts, mother and daughter

The father's goodbye gift in place of a solitary kiss

Could that empty shell be the first symptom of what may come;
a twitch, a scratch, a hollow unheard scream?

Already bleeding through the skin?

This poem was written after reading Lady Lazarus & Daddy

Rebecca Price
Norton, UK
Monday, April 29, 2002

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