The butcher's guillotine that whispers: 'How's this, how's this?'
In the bowl the hare is aborted,
Its baby head out of the way, embalmed in spice,
Flayed of fur and humanity.
Let us eat it like Plato's afterbirth,
Let us eat it like Christ.
These are the people that were important---
Their round eyes, their teeth, their grimaces
On a stick that rattles and clicks, a counterfeit snake.
Shall the hood of the cobra appall me---
The loneliness of its eye, the eye of the mountains
Through which the sky eternally threads itself?
The world is blood-hot and personal
Dawn says, with its blood-flush.
There is no terminus, only suitcases
Out of which the same self unfolds like a suit
Plath seems to be full of anger. The idea of blood, last mentioned in stanza four, is resumed and it belongs, one supposes to the ‘world’ — the ‘us’ of the stanza seven, but also to herself; — it is ‘personal’. 
 This line evokes Hamlet in  Act 3 scene 2  who says; 
 now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on. 
 Hamlet is consumed with anger at his mother and step-father and burning with the need to avenge is dead father. 
 The idea of blood accentuates the imagery of pain and injury. The mention of blood is repeated once more in stanza twelve “blood-flush” — reprising the theme.
Totem