Quote

Our checks are pale. Our wallets are invalids. Past due, past due, is what our bills are saying and yet we kiss in every corner, scuffing the dust and the cat. Love rises like bread as we go bust.

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
Every
Cat
Wallets
Love
Affection
Rises
Like
Dust
Pale
Bills
Corner
Bread
Checks
Kissing
Dues
Saying
Kiss
Invalids
Past
Corners
Bust

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I keep feeling that there isn't one poem being written by any one of us - or a book or anything like that. The whole life of us writers, the whole product I guess I mean, is the one long poem - a community effort if you will. It's all the same poem. It doesn't belong to any one writer - it's God's poem perhaps. Or God's people's poem.
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My mouth blooms like a cut.
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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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And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself
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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.
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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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Everyone has left me except my muse, that good nurse. She stays in my hand, a mild white mouse.
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I imitatea memory of beliefthat I do not own.
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