the man
inside of woman
ties a knot
so that they will
never again be separate…
I am stuffing your mouth with your
promises and watching
you vomit them out upon my face.
The soul was not cured,
it was as full as a clothes closet
of dresses that did not fit.
Yet love enters my blood like an I.V.,
dripping in its little white moments.
The grass as bristly and stout as chives and me wondering when the ground will break and me wondering how anything fragile survives
Anne SextonTags: poetry
Even so, I must admire your skill.
You are so gracefully insane.
Now I am just an elderly lady who is full of spleen,
who humps around greater Boston in a God-awful hat,
who never lived and yet outlived her time,
hating men and dogs and Democrats.
Live or die, but don't poison everything.
Anne Sextonbeing sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
Anne SextonSuicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.
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