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Women tell time by the body. They are like clocks. They are always fastened to the earth, listening for its small animal noises.

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
Tell
Fastened
Earth
Clocks
Women
Noises
Body
Clock
Always
Noise
Time
Listening
Like
Animal
Small

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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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I like you your eyes are full of language. [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]
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Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.
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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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And thus Snow White became the prince's bride. The wicked queen was invited to the wedding feast and when she arrived there were red-hot iron shoes, in the manner of red-hot roller skates, clamped upon her feet.
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Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
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Every time I get happy the Nana-hex comes through. Birds turn into plumber's tools, a sonnet turns into a dirty joke, a wind turns into a tracheotomy, a boat turns into a corpse.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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The family story tells, and it was told true, of my great-grandfather who begat eight genius children and bought twelve almost new grand pianos. He left a considerable estate when he died.
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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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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.
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God owns heaven but He craves the earth.
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