His awful skin
stretched out by some tradesman
is like my skin, here between my fingers,
a kind of webbing, a kind of frog.
Surely when first born my face was this tiny
and before I was born surely I could fly.
Not well, mind you, only a veil of skin
from my arms to my waist.
I flew at night, too. Not to be seen
for if I were I’d be taken down.
In August perhaps as the trees rose to the stars
I have flown from leaf to leaf in the thick dark.
If you had caught me with your flashlight
you would have seen a pink corpse with wings,
out, out, from her mother’s belly, all furry
and hoarse skimming over the houses, the armies.
That’s why the dogs of your house sniff me.
They know I’m something to be caught
somewhere in the cemetery hanging upside down
like a misshapen udder.
(Anne Sexton)
More Poetry from Anne Sexton:
Anne Sexton Poems based on Topics: Night, Nature, Faces, Dogs, Mind- Hurry Up Please It's Time (Anne Sexton Poems)
- Red Riding Hood (Anne Sexton Poems)
- Angels Of The Love Affair (Anne Sexton Poems)
- Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (Anne Sexton Poems)
- Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty) (Anne Sexton Poems)
- The Death Baby (Anne Sexton Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Night Poems, Mind Poems, Nature Poems, Faces Poems, Dogs PoemsBased on Keywords: skimming, tradesman, furry, misshapen, udder, flashlight, webbing