Barefoot Poem by Anne Sexton


Rating: 3.4

Loving me with my shoes off
means loving my long brown legs,
sweet dears, as good as spoons;
and my feet, those two children
let out to play naked. Intricate nubs,
my toes. No longer bound.
And what's more, see toenails and
all ten stages, root by root.
All spirited and wild, this little
piggy went to market and this little piggy
stayed. Long brown legs and long brown toes.
Further up, my darling, the woman
is calling her secrets, little houses,
little tongues that tell you.

There is no one else but us
in this house on the land spit.
The sea wears a bell in its navel.
And I'm your barefoot wench for a
whole week. Do you care for salami?
No. You'd rather not have a scotch?
No. You don't really drink. You do
drink me. The gulls kill fish,
crying out like three-year-olds.
The surf's a narcotic, calling out,
I am, I am, I am
all night long. Barefoot,
I drum up and down your back.
In the morning I run from door to door
of the cabin playing chase me.
Now you grab me by the ankles.
Now you work your way up the legs
and come to pierce me at my hunger mark

Drew P 05 May 2021

this is gas

3 0 Reply
Dr Antony Theodore 01 November 2015

such a nice poem. thinking of freedom. thank you liked it very much. tony

1 0 Reply
Dawn Fuzan 28 April 2014

Wow, this is good

1 0 Reply
Essence Stowe 09 February 2010

i love this poem... reminds me of freedom and carelessness

1 0 Reply
Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton

Newton, Massachusetts
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