Ms. Sexton went out looking for the gods.
She began looking in the sky
—expecting a large white angel with a blue crotch.
This is the desk I sit at
and this is the desk where I love you too much
and this is the typewriter that sits before me
Linda, you are leaving
your old body now,
It lies flat, an old butterfly,
all arm, all leg, all wing,
This is the key to it.
This is the key to everything.
A story, a story!
(Let it go. Let it come.)
I was stamped out like a Plymouth fender
into this world.
It is half winter, half spring,
and Barbara and I are standing
confronting the ocean.
strange goddess face
above my milk home,
that delicate asylum,
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment o ...
I was thinking of a son.
The womb is not a clock
nor a bell tolling,
but in the eleventh month of its life
Tommy is three and when he's bad
his mother dances with him.
She puts on the record,
'Red Roses for a Blue Lady'