Poem Hunter
(9 November 1928 – 4 October 1974 / Newton, Massachusetts)


Poem By Anne Sexton

Who is he?
A railroad track toward hell?
Breaking like a stick of furniture?
The hope that suddenly overflows the cesspool?
The love that goes down the drain like spit?
The love that said forever, forever
and then runs you over like a truck?
Are you a prayer that floats into a radio advertisement?
I don't like you very well.
You don't suit my clothes or my cigarettes.
Why do you locate here
as large as a tank,
aiming at one half of a lifetime?
Couldn't you just go float into a tree
instead of locating here at my roots,
forcing me out of the life I've led
when it's been my belly so long?

All right!
I'll take you along on the trip
where for so many years
my arms have been speechless

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Comments (5)

with its mixed images i can relate to some but not to others. perhaps because i'm a man? it strikes me that writing their own poems/images in response to the subject of despair might make an interesting exercise for a group of gathered poets. -gk
Cannot read this without feeling her pain bleeding from every word... both intensely personal and about what is universal to women.
The love that said forever, forever! ! Love and art! Facing the odds. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Well expressed poem by Anne Sexton👍👍👍
A poem full of emptiness.