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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.

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
Sick
Eye
Feverish
Frowning
Yellow
Sunshine
Heat

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I rot on the wall, my own Dorian Gray.
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You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going
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Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
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I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
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As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.
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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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Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
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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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To love another is somethinglike prayer and it can't be planned, you just fallinto its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.
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The silence is death. It comes each day with its shock to sit on my shoulder, a white bird, and peck at the black eyes and the vibrating red muscle of my mouth.
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The body is a damn hard thing to kill.
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Oh thumb, I want a drink it is dark, where are the big people, when will I get there...?
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The sky breaks. It sags and breathes upon my face. in the presence of mine enemies, mine enemies The world is full of enemies. There is no safe place.
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