Ghosts (Anne Sexton Poems)
Some ghosts are women, neither abstract nor pale, their breasts as limp as killed fish. Not witches, but ghosts who ...
Some ghosts are women, neither abstract nor pale, their breasts as limp as killed fish. Not witches, but ghosts who ...
It is a summer evening. The yellow moths sag against the locked screens and the faded curtains suck over the ...
Watch out for power, for its avalanche can bury you, snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain. Watch out for hate, ...
No matter what life you lead the virgin is a lovely number: cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper, arms and ...
There will be mud on the carpet tonight and blood in the gravy as well. The wifebeater is out, the ...
You always read about it: the plumber with the twelve children who wins the Irish Sweepstakes. From toilets to riches. ...
"Angels of the love affair, do you know that other, the dark one, that other me?" 1. ANGEL OF FIRE ...
When man, enters woman, like the surf biting the shore, again and again, and the woman opens her mouth with ...
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours, full of white shirts and salad greens, the icebox knocking ...
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