
Woman... you are weak Only in as much as You need to peek Into the bathroom cabinet And grab a razor Because you must, must, must Use that under arm hair eraser Then gently pluck Every single hair above Those deep brown eyes That I always love When they peek into me What do they see What do you see in me Your look leaves me weak, on my knee And then when you talk I hang on every word speak You call me out, call me freak Call me to you with your shriek Call me with your bleak critique Call me old, a crap antique Calling out my feeble physique You call me man, call me weak We call our everything unique.
Sylvia Plath, American poet and author, died today in 1963.