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being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions

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
Questions
Died
Full
Sixteen
Pants

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Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of comfort, spanked into the oxygens of death.
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There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the ground.
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We are all writing God's poem.
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The body is a damn hard thing to kill.
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It would be pleasant to be drunk.
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All who love have lied.
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The Saints come, as human as a mouth, with a bag of God in their backs, like a hunchback, they come, they come marching in.
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Poor thing. To die and never see Brooklyn.
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I've grown tired of love You are the trouble with me I watch you walk right by
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I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.
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It's all a matter of history. Brandy is no solace. Librium only lies me down like a dead snow queen. Yes! I am still the criminal.
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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
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Here in the hospital, I say,that is not my body, not my body.I am not here for the doctorsto read like a recipe.
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Then God spoke to me and said: People say only good things about Christmas. If they want to say something bad, they whisper.
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I am stuffing your mouth with your promises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.
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I said, the poets are there I hear them singing and lying around their round table and around me still.
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But suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build. Twice I have so simply declared myself, have possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy, have taken on his craft, his magic.
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I who was a house full of bowel movement, I who was a defaced altar, I who wanted to crawl toward God could not move nor eat bread.
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Somebody who should have been born is gone.
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