Poem by Anne Sexton

Again and Again and Again

You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like.  It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old.  It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot.  I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.

1. Oh
2. Clothes
3. Ghosts
4. Ringing the Bells
5. Woman with Girdle

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