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10.0
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It's in the heart of the grape
where that smile lies.
It's in the good-bye-bow in the hair
where that smile lies.
It's in the clerical collar of the dress
where that smile lies.
What smile?
The smile of my seventh year,
caught here in the painted photograph.
It's peeling now, age has got it,
a kind of cancer of the background
and also in the assorted features.
It's like a rotten flag
or a vegetable from the refrigerator,
pocked with mold.
I am aging without sound,
into darkness, darkness.
Anne,
who are you?
I open the vein
and my blood rings like roller skates.
I open the mouth
and my teeth are an angry army.
I open the eyes
and they go sick like dogs
with what they have seen.
I open the hair
and it falls apart like dust balls.
I open the dress
and I see a child bent on a toilet seat.
I crouch there, sitting dumbly
pushing the enemas out like ice cream,
letting the whole brown world
turn into sweets.
Anne,
who are you?
Merely a kid keeping alive.
Anne Sexton
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Comments about this poem (Baby Picture
by
Anne Sexton
) |
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comments about this poem (Baby Picture by
Anne Sexton
)
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Brittany Gorski
(1/28/2009 8:44:00 AM) |
I like this poem....you have to just go with the flow on every line...very interesting!
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Rochelle Cashdan
(10/27/2008 10:08:00 PM) |
Goes in too many different directions. Despite the Anne, who are you theme, the poem doesn't work for me.
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Anne Sexton
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