Womanhood
(a found poem with words from Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath)
i have done it. i manage a miracle —
my skin bright, my face featureless fine linen.
do i terrify?
nose, eyes, teeth, breath,
will vanish in a day.
soon, the grave will be home and i,
like the cat, have nine times to die.
(this is number three.)
unwrap me hand and foot, the big strip tease:
my hands, my knees, skin and bone.
nevertheless, i am the same as a seashell,
like sticky pearls. dying is an art. i do it well.
it feels like hell, it feels real,
i guess you could say it’s theatrical.
for my heart there is a charge, my magnum opus.
out of the ash i rise like air.
Icarus Grey is sometimes a poet and the editor for the Periwinkle Pelican. They make a mean quiche and dream of learning to play the banjo.