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Literature Text
my fingerprints are on the inside of your thighs,
Acqua di Gio and sweat,
a love letter under your shoulder blade,
you are reading a poem
like Anne on a boat somewhere, holding
Maxine's hands, saying the wrong words over
and over again
shivering in a bath,
I cannot die because
I once told you forever
even when my fever goes up and
my heart has forgotten how to beat and I think
about that, how a body turns itself inside out and
it all comes down to a broken heart.
Acqua di Gio and sweat,
a love letter under your shoulder blade,
you are reading a poem
like Anne on a boat somewhere, holding
Maxine's hands, saying the wrong words over
and over again
shivering in a bath,
I cannot die because
I once told you forever
even when my fever goes up and
my heart has forgotten how to beat and I think
about that, how a body turns itself inside out and
it all comes down to a broken heart.
Literature
Your Love
Addiction
Temporary high
A craving
Something I must always have
Poison
Quick-flowing
Fast-acting
Something that moves on its own
Antidote
What can cure all of me
I must have to survive
Something I will die without
What else could do all of this to me?
Your affection
Touch
Desire
Heart
Your love
Literature
My Moon
Heart strings pulled loose
Roots uprooted
Far-flung to a place
A place of restlessness
My moon so close yet so far
That is what I yearn for
Wrapped up in silken ribbons of light
Yet the burning sun keeps me captive
In its searing ropes
Its sister time
The ever careful onlooker
Keeps me restrained ever further
With her ever passing cycles
I yearn to escape
Escape to the slow eternity of the moon
Her embrace like the petals of a rose
Her kiss like a thousand raindrops
Her home among the stars
Humming out their untameable melodies
The heart aches at such an incomparable beauty
That is where I long to be
Where I belong
Hom
Literature
Firsts
I had sex
for the first time
on a Sunday
when
October air
ate away the blinds
and snake-lines of light
pressed in
at undone corners.
I remember less of you,
and more of me,
cocooned
in yellow sheets
how you kept mumbling
questions and I
lay there,
still.
The prodding,
the jostle,
are so much less vivid
than the sense
that I was shedding
skin
becoming something,
tighter,
slimmer,
more stream-lined.
So that later
in the bathroom,
I saw myself,
the mirror
twisting my hipbones
into
shelves that I could
rest my elbows on.
I was nineteen
then,
so you,
two times my weight,
welding my bones
into yours,
made
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Love.
On October 4, 1974, Anne Sexton had lunch with poet Maxine Kumin to revise galleys for Sexton's manuscript of The Awful Rowing Toward God, scheduled for publication in March 1975. On returning home she put on her mother's old fur coat, removed all her rings, poured herself a glass of vodka, locked herself in her garage, and started the engine of her car, committing suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning.
In an interview over a year before her death, she explained she had written the first drafts of The Awful Rowing Toward God in twenty days with "two days out for despair and three days out in a mental hospital." She went on to say that she would not allow the poems to be published before her death.
The rest of the story: [link]
On October 4, 1974, Anne Sexton had lunch with poet Maxine Kumin to revise galleys for Sexton's manuscript of The Awful Rowing Toward God, scheduled for publication in March 1975. On returning home she put on her mother's old fur coat, removed all her rings, poured herself a glass of vodka, locked herself in her garage, and started the engine of her car, committing suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning.
In an interview over a year before her death, she explained she had written the first drafts of The Awful Rowing Toward God in twenty days with "two days out for despair and three days out in a mental hospital." She went on to say that she would not allow the poems to be published before her death.
The rest of the story: [link]
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