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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.

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
Six
Childhood
Lived
Graveyard
Full
Grotesque
House
Dolls
Body
Suspect
Suspects
Avoiding

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The ground has on its clothes. The trees poke out of sheets and each branch wears the sock of God.
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Jewels! Today each twig is important, each ring, each infection, each form is all that the gods must have meant.
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And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...
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For forty days, for forty nights Jesus put one foot in front of the other and the man he carried, if it was a man, became heavier and heavier.
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I've grown tired of love You are the trouble with me I watch you walk right by
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I try to take care and be gentle to them. Words and eggs must be handled with care. Once broken they are impossible things to repair.
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Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of comfort, spanked into the oxygens of death.
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It is June. I am tired of being brave.
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I raise my pelvis to God so that it may know the truth of how flowers smash through the long winter.
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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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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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Mood can be as important as sense.
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I cannot walk an inch / without trying to walk to God.
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Need is not quite belief.
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I brush my hair, waiting in the pain machine for my bones to get hard, for the soft, soft bones that were laid apart and were screwed together. They will knit. And the other corpse, the fractured heart, I feed it piecemeal, little chalice. I'm good to it.
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women are born twice.
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I am younger each year at the first snow.
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I am tearing the feathers out of the pillows, waiting, waiting for Daddy to come home and stuff me so full of our infected child that I turn invisible, but married, at last.
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I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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