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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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True. There is a beautiful Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beef. How desperately he wanted to pull his arms in! How desperately I touch his vertical and horizontal axes! But I can't. Need is not quite belief.
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Suddenly I'm not half the girl I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me . . . From me to you out of my electric devil.
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One of my secret instructions to myself as a poet is Whatever you do, don't be boring.
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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.
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Today life opened inside me like an egg.
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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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I think it will be a miracle if I don't someday end up killing myself.
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Death's in the good-bye.
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The snow has quietness in it no songs, no smells, no shouts or traffic. When I speak my own voice shocks me.
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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
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I am torn in two but I will conquer myself.
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To die whole, riddled with nothing but desire for it, is like breakfast after love.
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we do not explain my husband's insane abuse and we do not say why your wild-haired wife has fled or that my father opened like a walnut and then was dead. Your palms fold over me like knees. Love is the only use.
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The tongue, the Chinese say, is like a sharp knife: it kills without drawing blood.
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The boys and girls are one tonight. They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies. They take off shoes. They turn off the light. The glimmering creatures are full of lies. They are eating each other. They are overfed. At night, alone, I marry the bed.
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I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves.
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