Poems by Anne Sexton
More Than Myself
... in the commonplaces of the asylum ...
Cockroach
... And held it like a diamond ring that should not escape ...
The Death Baby
... break eye, how you stare back!Like the gaze if small children ...
Lullaby
... Let the others moan in secret ...
The Wifebeater
... today two women in baby clothes will be hamburg ...
Love Letter Written In A Burning Building
... but instead we seem to be going down right in the middle of a Russian ...
The Truth the Dead Know
... and my Father, born February 1900, died June 1959Gone, I say and walk from church, ...
Clothes
... she would have put a WANTED sign up in the post office ...
Rapunzel
... He was blinded by thorns that prickled him like tacks ...
Doctors
... in November. But all along the doctors remember: ...
For The Year Of The Insane
... she murmurs, exhaling her wide lung like an enormous fish ...
Words
... They are six holy oranges sitting in my lap ...
The Touch
... in a tin box. Nothing was there but the subway railings ...
The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks
... they whisper. So I went to the well and drew a baby ...
Us
... (that room that will outlive us) ...
