And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure as a baby.
Sylvia PlathI didnโt want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how freeโโ The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
Sylvia Plath