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I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.

Anne Sexton

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Anne Sexton
Age: 45 †
Born: 1928
Born: November 9
Died: 1974
Died: October 4
Poet
Writer
Newton
Massachusetts
Anne Gray Harvey
Watching
Promise
Face
Faces
Stuffing
Upon
Vomit
Truth
Promises
Mouth
Mouths

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And thus Snow White became the prince's bride. The wicked queen was invited to the wedding feast and when she arrived there were red-hot iron shoes, in the manner of red-hot roller skates, clamped upon her feet.
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I'll Vacuum up my stale hair, I'll pay all my neighbors' bad debts, I'll write a poem called Yellow and put my lips down to drink it up.
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My business is words. Words are like labels, or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
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There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning.
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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
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Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.
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Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
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I leave you, home, when I'm ripped from the doorstep by commerce or fate. Then I submit to the awful subway of the world.
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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out.
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Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents, mountains rise up and down like ghosts yet all is natural, all is change.
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The grass as bristly and stout as chives and me wondering when the ground will break and me wondering how anything fragile survives
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I was only sitting here in my white study with the awful black words pushing me around.
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