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Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.

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
Undergoing
Meanwhile
Surgery
Head
Open
Heart

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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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I put the gold star up in the front window beside the flag. Alterations is what I know and what I did: hems, gussets and seams.
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The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.
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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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being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions
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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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Once I was a couple. I was my own king and queen with cheese and bread and rosé on the rocks of Rockport.
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For forty days, for forty nights Jesus put one foot in front of the other and the man he carried, if it was a man, became heavier and heavier.
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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
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Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen.
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The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
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Take adultery or theft. Merely sins. It is evil who dines on the soul, stretching out its long bone tongue. It is evil who tweezers my heart, picking out its atomic worms.
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The day of fire is coming, the thrush will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket.
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I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box.
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Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.
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I would sell my life to avoid the pain that begins in the crib with its bars or perhaps with your first breath when the planets drill your future into you.
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I did not know the woman I would be nor that blood would bloom in me each month like an exotic flower, nor that children, two monuments, would break from between my legs.
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I burn the way money burns.
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All the oxygen of the world was in them. All the feet of the babies of the world were in them. All the crotches of the angels of the world were in them. All the morning kisses of Philadelphia were in them.
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What's the point of fighting the dollars when all you need is a warm bed? When the dog barks you let him in. All we need is someone to let us in. And one other thing: to consider the lilies in the field.
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