Anne Sexton Poems

Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
...

Since you ask, most days I cannot remember.
I walk in my clothing, unmarked by that voyage.
Then the almost unnameable lust returns.
...

I stand before the sea
and it rolls and rolls in its green blood
saying, 'Do not give up one god
for I have a handful.'
...

Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
...

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

Child, the current of your breath is six days long.
You lie, a small knuckle on my white bed;
lie, fisted like a snail, so small and strong
...

Live or die, but don't poison everything…

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

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.
...

They work with herbs
and penicillin
They work with gentleness
...

When I was a child
there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch.
All day she peered from her second story
window
from behi ...
...