An Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love

An Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love

by Anne Sexton

Busy, with an idea for a code, I write
signals hurrying from left to right,
or right to left, by obscure routes,
for my own reasons; taking a word like writes
down tiers of tries until its secret rites
make sense; or until, suddenly, RATS
can amazingly and funnily become STAR
and right to left that small star
is mine, for my own liking, to stare
its five lucky pins inside out, to store
forever kindly, as if it were a star
I touched and a miracle I really wrote.

images-2

After Auschwitz

After Auschwitz 

by Anne Sexton

Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.

~ ❇ ✥ ✦ ✥ ❇ ~

And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.

~ ❇ ✥ ✦ ✥ ❇ ~

Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
Man
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.

~ ❇ ✥ ✦ ✥ ❇ ~

And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.

~ ❇ ✥ ✦ ✥ ❇ ~

Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say aloud.
Let man never again raise his teacup.
Let man never again write a book.
Let man never again put on his shoe.
Let man never again raise his eyes,
on a soft July night.
Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.
I say those things aloud.

~ ❇ ✥ ✦ ✥ ❇ ~

I beg the Lord not to hear.

images-2