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"The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "A Small Journal," entry for Nov. 19, 1971, The Poet's Story, ed. Howard Moss (1974). |
"Everyone has left me
except my muse,
that good nurse.
She stays in my hand,
a mild white mouse."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. Flee on Your Donkey, st. 3, Live or Die (1966).
The title quotes Rimbaud's Fêtes de la Faim (1872). |
"I am alone here in my own mind.
There is no map
and there is no road.
It is one of a kind
just as yours is."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "January 24th." |
"My sleeping pill is white.
It is a splendid pearl;
it floats me out of myself,
my stung skin as alien
as a loose bolt of cloth."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "Lullaby." |
"Made of old rags of tongues,
of flesh slipped through the abortionist's knife
you snake thing...."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "Snake." |
"this errand we're on goes to one store."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "The Errand." |
"Taking into consideration all your loveliness
why can't you burn your bootsoles and your
draft card? How can you sit there saying yes
to war?"
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "The Papa and Mama Dance." |
"The place became crater on each side,
sank down to its first skull,
shedding forests, oceans, dried
bones and neons, as it fell through
time like a forgotten pitted stone."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "Venus and the Ark." |
"Maybe Rose, there is always another story,
better unsaid, grim or flat or predatory."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "A Story for Rose on the Midnight Flight to Boston." |
"through the Sumner Tunnel,
trunk by trunk through its sulphurous walls,
tile by tile like a men's urinal,
slipping through
like somebody else's package."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974), U.S. poet. "Flight." |
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