Anne Sexton Poems

It is in the small things we see it.
The child's first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
...

Consider
a girl who keeps slipping off,
arms limp as old carrots,
into the hypnotist's trance,
...

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
...

A born salesman,
my father made all his dough
by selling wool to Fieldcrest, Woolrich and Faribo.
...

Anna who was mad,
I have a knife in my armpit.
When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.
Am I some sort of infection?
...

You always read about it:
the plumber with the twelve children
who wins the Irish Sweepstakes.
From toilets to riches.
...

Until tonight they were separate specialties,
different stories, the best of their own worst.
Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy's
laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first
...

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.
...

Watch out for power,
for its avalanche can bury you,
snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain.
...

Oh sharp diamond, my mother!
I could not count the cost
of all your faces, your moods-
that present that I lost.
...