Anne Sexton Poems

Over stone walls and barns,
miles from the black-eyed Susans,
over circus tents and moon rockets
...

I am the love killer,
I am murdering the music we thought so special,
that blazed between us, over and over.
...

for Sylvia Plath

O Sylvia, Sylvia,
with a dead box of stones and spoons,
...

Be careful of words,
even the miraculous ones.
For the miraculous we do our best,
sometimes they swarm like insects
...

Better,
despite the worms talking to
the mare’s hoof in the field;
better,
...

My doctor, the comedian
I called you every time
and made you laugh yourself
when I wrote this silly rhyme...
...

Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
They wanted to cut you out
but they will not.
...

We sail out of season into on oyster-gray wind,
over a terrible hardness.
Where Dickens crossed with mal de mer
in twenty weeks or twenty days
...

Live or die, but don't poison everything…

Well, death's been here
for a long time -
...

Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
...