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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.

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
Marriage
Iron
Brides
Feet
Manner
Arrived
Upon
Hot
Prince
White
Snow
Invited
Clamped
Red
Wedding
Skates
Thus
Queen
Roller
Shoes
Queens
Bride
Became
Wicked
Feast

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And tonight our skin, our bones, that have survived our fathers, will meet, delicate in the hold, fastened together in an intricate lock. Then one of us will shout, My need is more desperate! and I will eat you slowly with kisses even though the killer in you has gotten out.
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Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.
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unless I can shake myself free of my dog, my flag, of my desk, my mind, I find life a bit of a drag. Not always, mind you. Usually I'm like my frying pan useful, graceful, sturdy and with no caper, no plan.
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Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?
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Psychiatry is a dirty mirror.
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Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.
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Not that it was beautiful, but that I found some order there.
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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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Home is my Bethlehem, my succoring shelter, my mental hospital, my wife, my dam, my husband, my sir, my womb, my skull.
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I am younger each year at the first snow.
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Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.
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Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough?
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Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
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Even without wars, life is dangerous.
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O yellow eye, let me be sick with your heat, let me be feverish and frowning.
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To be without God is to be a snake / who wants to swallow an elephant.
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I, in my brand new body, which was not a woman's yet, told the stars my questions and thought God could really see the heat and the painted light, elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.
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