Anne Sexton (Энн Секстон)

The Moss of His Skin

Harold Feldman, “Children of the Desert”
Psychoanalysis and Psychoanalytic Review, Fall 1958

It was only important
to smile and hold still,
to lie down beside him
and to rest awhile,
to be folded up together
as if we were silk,
to sink from the eyes of mother   
and not to talk.
The black room took us
like a cave or a mouth
or an indoor belly.
I held my breath
and daddy was there,
his thumbs, his fat skull,   
his teeth, his hair growing   
like a field or a shawl.
I lay by the moss
of his skin until
it grew strange. My sisters   
will never know that I fall   
out of myself and pretend   
that Allah will not see
how I hold my daddy   
like an old stone tree.

1. The Ambition Bird
2. All My Pretty Ones
3. Crossing the Atlantic
4. Music Swims Back to Me
5. Ringing the Bells

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