God loafs around heaven,
without a shape
but He would like to smoke His cigar
or bite His fingernails
and so forth.
God owns heaven
but He craves the earth,
the earth with its little sleepy caves,
its bird resting at the kitchen window,
even its murders lined up like broken chairs,
even its writers digging into their souls
even its hucksters selling their animals
even its babies sniffing for their music,
the farm house, white as a bone,
sitting in the lap of its corn,
even the statue holding up its widowed life,
but most of all He envies the bodies,
He who has no body.
The eyes, opening and shutting like keyholes
and never forgetting, recording by thousands,
the skull with its brains like eels-
the tablet of the world-
the bones and their joints
that build and break for any trick,
the ballast of the eternal,
and the heart, of course,
that swallows the tides
and spits them out cleansed.
He does not envy the soul so much.
He is all soul
but He would like to house it in a body
and come down
and give it a bath
now and then.
Anne Sexton's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (The Earth by Anne Sexton )
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- Day 28 of July 2014, Erica Borges
- let the wild rumpus start!, Mandolyn ...
- Keep on the Sunny Side, Joseph Narusiewicz
- Switches …… [NOT just for electrician.., Bri Edwards
- there's heaven on the plains and freedom.., Mandolyn ...
- Journey of imaginable stress!, Marshall Gass
- the fishermen on the wharf, Marshall Gass
- In The Market For The Exotic, Terence G. Craddock
- Far Traveller Absorb Exotic Sights, Terence G. Craddock
- the yardstick, Marshall Gass