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My mouth blooms like a cut.

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
Like
Blooms
Mouth
Kissing
Mouths
Cutting

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All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
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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.
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Pulling off the fat diamond engagement ring, pulling off the elopement wedding ring, and holding them, clicking them in thumb and forefinger, the indent of twenty-five years, like a tiny rip leaving its mark.
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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in.
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Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.
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But even in a telephone booth evil can seep out of the receiver and we must cover it with a mattress, and then tear it from its roots and bury it, bury it.
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When the cow gives blood and the Christ is born we must all eat sacrifices. We must all eat beautiful women.
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I want to kiss God on His nose and watch Him sneeze and so do you. Not out of disrespect. Out of pique. Out of a man-to-man thing.
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My safe, safe psychosis is broken. It was hard. It was made of stone. It covered my face like a mask. But it has cracked.
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The fish are naked. The fish are always awake. They are the color of old spoons and caramels.
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Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.
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As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.
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Though rain curses the window let the poem be made.
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Thumbs grow into my throat. I wear slaps like a spot of rouge.
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Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.
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I'm the crazy one who thinks that words reach people.
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... man is eating the earth up like a candy bar.
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There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the ground.
Anne Sexton
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I tied down time with a rope but it came back. Then I put my head in a death bowl and my eyes shut up like clams. They didn't come back.
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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.
Anne Sexton