By Anne Sexton

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi took,
at 8:00 A.M., a baby
and sautéed 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.