A Curse Against Elegies Poem by Anne Sexton

A Curse Against Elegies

Rating: 2.9


Oh, love, why do we argue like this?
I am tired of all your pious talk.
Also, I am tired of all the dead.
They refuse to listen,
so leave them alone.
Take your foot out of the graveyard,
they are busy being dead.

Everyone was always to blame:
the last empty fifth of booze,
the rusty nails and chicken feathers
that stuck in the mud on the back doorstep,
the worms that lived under the cat's ear
and the thin-lipped preacher
who refused to call
except once on a flea-ridden day
when he came scuffing in through the yard
looking for a scapegoat.
I hid in the kitchen under the ragbag.

I refuse to remember the dead.
And the dead are bored with the whole thing.
But you - you go ahead,
go on, go on back down
into the graveyard,
lie down where you think their faces are;
talk back to your old bad dreams.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Mini Troubadoura 26 December 2018

he came scuffing in through the yard looking for a scapegoat. I hid in the kitchen under the ragbag. Love it.

1 0 Reply
* Sunprincess * 29 August 2015

.....incredible poem, love the imagery -?

1 1 Reply
John Tiong Chunghoo 12 September 2006

anne, giving so much life to the dead. good one.

4 1 Reply
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Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton

Newton, Massachusetts
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