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Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough?

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
Died
Wasn
Friends
Salted
Bigs
Packed
Father
Fifty
Enough
Snow
Like
Nine
Angel

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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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I said, the poets are there I hear them singing and lying around their round table and around me still.
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God went out of me as if the sea dried up like sandpaper, as if the sun became a latrine.
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I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.
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There is an animal inside me, clutching fast to my heart, a huge crab.
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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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I am in my own mind. I am locked in the wrong house.
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... man is eating the earth up like a candy bar.
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Even so, I must admire your skill. You are so gracefully insane.
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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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I love the word warm. It is almost unbearable-- so moist and breathlike.
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... and my love stays bitterly glowing, spasms of it will not sleep, and I am helpless and thirsty and need shade but there is no one to cover me- not even God.
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