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Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.

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
Another
Marry
Women
Skin
Heart
Skins
Kind
Mouth
Bowel
Mouths
Liver
Marriage
Movements
Movement
Wedding
House
Houses

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I would like to think that no one would die anymore if we all believed in daisies but the worms know better, don't they? They slide into the ear of a corpse and listen to his great sigh.
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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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We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!
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I tied down time with a rope but it came back. Then I put my head in a death bowl and my eyes shut up like clams. They didn't come back.
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To tell the truth days are all the same size and words aren't much company.
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The windows, the starving windows that drive the trees like nails into my heart.
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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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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine. God went out of my fingers. They became stone. My body became a side of mutton and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.
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God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
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Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but God has one.
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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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Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
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Rejoice with the day lily for it is born for a day to live by the mailbox and glorify the roadside
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One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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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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Need is not quite belief.
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It is June. I am tired of being brave.
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My husband sings Baa Baa black sheep and we pretend that all's certain and good, that the marriage won't end.
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To be without God is to be a snake / who wants to swallow an elephant.
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