This singing
is a kind of dying,
a kind of birth,
a votive candle.
I have a dream-mother
who sings with her guitar,
nursing the bedroom
with a moonlight and beautiful olives.
A flute came too,
joining the five strings,
a God finger over the holes.
I knew a beautiful woman once
who sang with her fingertips
and her eyes were brown
like small birds.
At the cup of her breasts
I drew wine.
At the mound of her legs
I drew figs.
She sang for my thirst,
mysterious songs of God
that would have laid an army down.
It was as if a morning-glory
had bloomed in her throat
and all that blue
and small pollen
ate into my heart
violent and religious.
(Anne Sexton)
More Poetry from Anne Sexton:
Anne Sexton Poems based on Topics: Death & Dying, God, Birds, Beauty, Wine, Singing, Birth, Mystery- 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: God Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Beauty Poems, Birds Poems, Wine Poems, Birth Poems, Singing Poems, Mystery PoemsBased on Keywords: morning-glory