Me BG + conremronany awnnican rorrRy 1 man Iying slone to avoid being abandoned, tho sant to die to escape the meeting with death ‘The Sinl second strikes, On the glass wall the daylight guows s0 bight the man sees the next dckness alvady forming inside -Aveady «suburban housewife and mother, Ane Sexton began wong postry i 1930 at her yeni’ aggro, to Help her “ wnereand snd recover fam oo ofthe sais of metal brealdowns hat stalked he, Barn in Newton, Mastachuset, she stayed pest ‘Boson ll et fe and um 196 ans er death se ough at seston University. Her ent confesonal york and ioe cia | ld inner boks toa more srealsc oe, Samboyant and She continue fo explore ber sling abject Bit of “aly ad Ue nate sod sales of womanhood. Whether wring ‘Snttiogphaly,tanafoning Grimms fry tales, or casting ‘Catan mp, Serene won mated by honesty, baldness, ‘an comic or orld bravado, Ter gif" sad her neti teacher hen Lowel, “vst ip, to aie Word tothe das of ber ‘poverty Soon wat awarded the Pulte Pie 187 ‘She commited sucde in 1074 have gone outa possessed witch, Inaunting the black ie, beaver at night ‘reaming ev, Thave done my hitch lover the pain houses, light by light Jonely thing, tvelve-fingered, out of mind [A woman like that ie nota woman, quit have been her hind. | have found the warm caves inthe woods, filled em vith sles, carvings, shelves, loss, sills, innumerable goods, fixed the suppers forthe worms and the elves: ee me saeareing the disaligned.318 + comrewronany amzicaw rorrny ‘A woman lke that fe misunderstood have been her kn "have ridden in your ca, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by, learning the ast bright routs, survivor where you Samos ll bite ny thigh tnd my ribs crack whece your wheel wind, ‘A woman lke that ip not ahaed to de, Thave been her kind Music Swims Back to Me ‘Wait Mister. Which way is home? ‘They tured the light out and the dask ie moving in the coones. ‘There ae no sign pote inthis room, four ladies, over eighty, in diapers every one of them. 1a Ila, Oh music swim back to me and I can fel the tune they played the night they Tet me Jn ths private Snatittion on a hil, Imagine A ratio alng and everyone here wae cay. 1itked it snd danced in a ele “Music pous aver the sense and in sFonny way ‘music sees more than 1 mean it remembers better semembers the fet night here Teas the strangled cold of November: leven the stars were strapped in the sky and that moon too right Awan sexton © 319 forking through the bars to stick me ‘with 3 singing in the head. TPhave forgotten all the ret. “They lock me in this char at eight am and there are no signs to tell the way, just the radio beating to itself fnnd the song tht remembers sore than L Oh, lala this muse sims back to me. ‘The night came [danced 2 circle and wat not ataid Mister? ‘Gone, [say and alk fom church, ‘refusing the eff procession tothe grave, letting the dead side alone in the hearse Wis Tune Tam tired of being brave ‘We drive to the Cape. Ieltvate yelf where the sun gutters From the sky, ‘where the sen swing i lke anion gate land we touch, In another country people de -My daring, the wind falls in like stones from the whiteheated water and when we touch we enter touch entirely. No one’s alone ‘Men bill for this o for as much “And what ofthe dead? They lie without shoes in thee etone boat. They are more lke stone than the sea would be it stopped, They sefuse ‘0 be blessed, throat, eye and knuckdebone.320 - contempozary auenican rosray The Starry Night ‘Tha lon ene fm hing» ere ned hal Ta the ‘wore, Than go etait pit star Voce Wat Got rf is bt ‘The town doce not exist except where one black-halte tree sips 1p lke « drovned woman into the hot ‘The tov is silent. The night boil with eleven tars, (Oh stay starry night! Ths is how want to die W moves. They are al alive. [Even the moon bulges in ite orange irons 4 Push children, lke a god, from is eye, ‘he old unseen serpent rwallows up the sas, (Oh starry starry night This is how Twant to de into that rushing beset ofthe night, sucked up by that great dragon, to split fom my life with to fag. ro belly, no ary. With Mercy for the Greedy ‘rm fia a ‘hag ne mh on epi! fe Surnn f Cone CConceming your letter in which you ste ‘me to calla priest and in which you ack ‘me to wear The Cross that you eiclose your own cree, jon sexton + 321 your dog-bitten cos, ‘Bo larger than a thumb, fall and weoden, no thorns, this rose— 1 pray to its shadow, fat gray place where i ies on your letter... deep, deep. detest my sins and I ty to believe ‘in The Cross I touch its tender hip, dark awed fae, its slid ack, its brows seep ‘Troe. There is a Beautifl Jesus. He is frozen to his bones like a chunk of beet How desperately he wanted to pull hie arn in! Howe desperately Itouch his verial and horizontal axes! But cant Need fe nok quite bali. Al mersng long ‘Your cros, hung with package string around my thyoet tapped me lightly ars chs heat might, tapping secondhand, softly waiting to be bor, | Ruth, T chessh the eter you verste My frend, my frend, I was born doing reference workin sin, and bom onfesing it. This is what poems are Since you ask, mest days I cannot remember. walk in my doting, unmarked by that voyage ‘Then the almost unnameable lat returns322 - cowremronazy aupntcaw rorray Even then I have nothing against ie {know wall the grass blades you mention, fhe furitare you have placed under the san, Bat suicides have a special language. [ke carpenters they want to know ih ‘They never atk iy aie Tice Ihave o simply declared myself, bbave possessed the enemy, eaten the enemy, have taken on his caf, Ns magic In this way, heavy and thought, warmer than ol or ater have rested, drooling st the mouth hole Stll-bor, they don't aways die, bt dazzled, they can’t forget a drug so sweet {hat even children would lock on and tale, To thrust ll that life under your tongue! that, ll by itself, Becomes passion Death's a sad bone; braised, you'd say, and yet she waits for me, year after year, 1050 delicately unde an old wound, ‘© empty my breath from ie bad prison, Balanced there, sucides sometiznes ict, ‘aging atthe frlt 3 puped-up moon Teaving the bread they mistook for 8 Ls, leaving the page ofthe book carelesly open, fomthing unsbd, the phone off the hook, sand the love, whatever it was, an infection, oy 55084 ron + 583 e Room of My Life Inthe rom of my ile AO ear keep chaning “Ashtrays to yi the forty-eight ke of the Fe Regan peace emeer i the books, cach» conten made of Newgabyae, ee an the wal Se segiibe = cave of bes Te chi tbe Breplace to pick t wp, Meating for someone t CK Dy ar at fen he arn of ho te rome pking root in its crotch, econ ra dosing opening the lights Teen up Both dhe ol and he I ‘The window ike ses dams, {hte the tows ke na it meat ae be Se ee Boy en oe TEM inte 00 se ay ae te {ete nhng a wha con Sry ye mene ny hd