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Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton

The Firebombers

We are America.
We are the coffin fillers.
We are the grocers of death.
We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.
 
The bomb opens like a shoebox.
And the child?
The child is certainly not yawning.
And the woman?
The woman is bathing her heart.
It has been torn out of her
and as a last act
she is rinsing it off in the river.
This is the death market.
 
America,
where are your credentials?

Otras obras de Anne Sexton...
The Touch

For months my hand was sealed off in a tin box. Nothing was there bu… Perhaps it is bruised, I thought, and that is why they have locked i… You could tell time by this, I th…
Housewife

Some women marry houses. It’s another kind of skin; it has… a mouth, a liver and bowel movemen… The walls are permanent and pink. See how she sits on her knees all…
 1
Red Roses

Tommy is three and when he’s bad his mother dances with him. She puts on the record, 'Red Roses for a Blue Lady’ and throws him across the room.
 1
Hornet

A red-hot needle hangs out of him, he steers by it as if it were a rudder, he would get in the house any way he… and then he would bounce from wind…
The Exorcists

And I solemnly swear on the chill of secrecy that I know you not, this room nev… the swollen dress I wear, nor the anonymous spoons that free…
My Friend, my Friend

Who will forgive me for the things… With no special legend of God to… With my calm white pedigree, my ya… I think it would be better to be a… I forgive you for what you did not…
Star-Nosed Mole

Mole, angel—dog of the pit, digging six miles a night, what’s up with you in your sooty s… where’s your kitchen at? I find you at the edge of our pond…
Ringing the Bells

And this is the way they ring the bells in Bedlam and this is the bell—lady who comes each Tuesday morning to give us a music lesson
The Witch's Life

When I was a child there was an old woman in our neig… All day she peered from her second… window from behind the wrinkled curtains
 2
For John, Who Begs Me Not to Enquire Further

Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind,
The Black Art

A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and isla… weren’t enough; as if mourners and… and vegetables were never enough.
 2
Mother and Daughter

Linda, you are leaving your old body now, It lies flat, an old butterfly, all arm, all leg, all wing, loose as an old dress.
In the Deep Museum

My God, my God, what queer corner… Didn’t I die, blood running down… lungs gagging for air, die there f… of anyone, my sour mouth giving up… Surely my body is done? Surely I…
The Assassin

The correct death is written in. I will fill the need. My bow is stiff. My bow is in readiness. I am the bullet and the hook.
Gods

Ms. Sexton went out looking for t… She began looking in the sky —expecting a large white angel wit… No one. She looked next in all the learned…



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