Poems by Anne Sexton
In Celebration of My Uterus
... “It is good this year that we may plant again ...
The Operation
... Wide eyed and still whole I turn in my bin like a shorn lamb ...
The Hangman
... about time, there in the house where babies never grow ...
The House
... Marks, the boys who will walk off with pale unlined faces, ...
Kind Sir: These Woods
... Turn around once, eyes tight, the thought in your head ...
Lobster
... S.A. sleeps. Somewhere far off a woman lights a cigarette ...
The Farmer's Wife
... and she wishes him cripple, or poet, ...
Lament
... In the entryway a cat breathes calmly ...
Torn Down From Glory Daily
... left over, and spread them gently on stone, ...
Funnel
... their starfished summers, the thirty-six pines sighing, ...
The Fury Of Rain Storms
... And oh they bring to mind the grave, ...
What's That
... that was caught between a shape and a shape and then returned to me ...
The Waiting Head
... I only know how each night she wrote in her leather books ...
Mother and Daughter
... its hands wider than jackstraws - ...
Star-Nosed Mole
... Mole dog, I wish your mother would wake you up ...
