Anger, 
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.
Man
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.

Added: on March 11th, 2007 at 7:33 PM | Viewed: 6028 times | Comments (8)

Poet: Anne Sexton
Poem: After Auschwitz

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, After Auschwitz, has received 8 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Anne Sexton with others on the American Poems poetry forum!