Anne Sexton Poems

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
...

A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
...

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

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

My business is words. Words are like labels,
or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
I confess I am only broken by the sources of things;
...

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 ...
...

A woman
who loves a woman
is forever young.
...

The summer sun ray
shifts through a suspicious tree.
though I walk through the valley of the shadow
...