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The woman with the edge, by Pablo Picasso
Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton

Her Kind

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.
 
I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.
 
I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.

#Confessional #RhymedStanza

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Préféré par...
Victoria Michel Ammar Ahmad Latrinda Hutchinson
Autres oeuvres par Anne Sexton...
Hutch

of her arms, this was her sin: where the wood berries bin of forest was new and full, she crept out by its tall posts, those wooden legs,
A Curse Against Elegies

Oh, love, why do we argue like thi… I am tired of all your pious talk. Also, I am tired of all the dead. They refuse to listen, so leave them alone.
The Truth the Dead Know

Gone, I say and walk from church, refusing the stiff procession to t… letting the dead ride alone in the… It is June. I am tired of being b… We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
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Consorting with Angels

I was tired of being a woman, tired of the spoons and the post, tired of my mouth and my breasts, tired of the cosmetics and the sil… There were still men who sat at my…
The Errand

I’ve been going right on, page by… since we last kissed, two long dol… two hunger—mongers throwing a myth… double—crossing out lives with dou… leaving us separate now, fogy with…
The Break

It was also my violent heart that… falling down the front hall stairs… It was also a message I never spo… calling, riser after riser, who ca… about you, who cares, splintering…
The Truth the Dead Know

Gone, I say and walk from church, refusing the stiff procession to t… letting the dead ride alone in the… It is June. I am tired of being b… We drive to the Cape. I cultivate
The Stand-Ins

In the dream the swastika is neon and flashes like a strobe light into my eyes, all colors, all vibrations
Just Once

Just once I knew what life was fo… In Boston, quite suddenly, I unde… walked there along the Charles Ri… watched the lights copying themsel… all neoned and strobe—hearted, ope…
In Celebration of my Uterus

Everyone in me is a bird. I am beating all my wings. They wanted to cut you out but they will not. They said you were immeasurably em…
After Auschwitz

Anger, as black as a hook, overtakes me. Each day, each Nazi
The Ambition Bird

So it has come to this insomnia at 3:15 A.M., the clock tolling its engine like a frog following a sundial yet having an electric
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The Fury of God's Good-bye

One day He tipped His top hat and walked out of the room, ending the argument.
The Big Heart

Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have:
Venus and the Ark

The missile to launch a missile was almost a secret. Two male Ph.D.’s were picked and primed to fill it and one hundred



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