Ways to Kill Yourself

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It seems easy enough.

Plath tried it,

wrote Lady Lazarus,

and succeeded,

when ironically

she expected to be saved.

Sexton did it, too,

after causing scandal

and mourning Sylvia

in Sylvia’s Death.

Carbon monoxide killed them,

did you know?

One in the car garage,

the other in her kitchen,

with the kids safely tucked in bed,

moist towels

stashed under the doors.

A knife would be simple,

sharp edge, one slice,

a clean line,

blood on the bathroom floor,

wrist gaping.

Poison is hard to obtain —

but anything can be poison, really;

remember that lady

who overdosed on water?

A rope spiraling down,

noose around the neck —

a cliched death.

But who would call it

the death of a poet?

Besides, the eyes would probably

burst into a bloody mess —

too disturbing for a funeral,

and there is no ceiling fan

in my room.