Anne Sexton Poems (219 Poems)
Doctors (Anne Sexton Poems)
They work with herbs and penicillin They work with gentleness and the scalpel. They dig out the cancer, close an incision and say a prayer to the poverty of the skin. They are not Gods though they would like to … Continue reading
For The Year Of The Insane (Anne Sexton Poems)
a prayer O Mary, fragile mother, hear me, hear me now although I do not know your words. The black rosary with its silver Christ lies unblessed in my hand for I am the unbeliever. Each bead is round and … Continue reading
Words (Anne Sexton Poems)
Be careful of words, even the miraculous ones. For the miraculous we do our best, sometimes they swarm like insects and leave not a sting but a kiss. They can be as good as fingers. They can be as trusty … Continue reading
The Touch (Anne Sexton Poems)
For months my hand was sealed off in a tin box. Nothing was there but the subway railings. Perhaps it is bruised, I thought, and that is why they have locked it up. You could tell time by this, I … Continue reading
The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks (Anne Sexton Poems)
In my dream I milked a cow, the terrible udder like a great rubber lily sweated in my fingers and as I yanked, waiting for the moon juice, waiting for the white mother, blood spurted from it and covered me … Continue reading
Us (Anne Sexton Poems)
I was wrapped in black fur and white fur and you undid me and then you placed me in gold light and then you crowned me, while snow fell outside the door in diagonal darts. While a ten-inch snow came … Continue reading
The Fury Of Cocks (Anne Sexton Poems)
There they are drooping over the breakfast plates, angel-like, folding in their sad wing, animal sad, and only the night before there they were playing the banjo. Once more the day’s light comes with its immense sun, its mother trucks, … Continue reading
To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph (Anne Sexton Poems)
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on, testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade, and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made! There below are the trees, … Continue reading
Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love (Anne Sexton Poems)
Busy, with an idea for a code, I write signals hurrying from left to right, or right to left, by obscure routes, for my own reasons; taking a word like writes down tiers of tries until its secret rites make … Continue reading
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