There once was a miller with a daughter as lovely as a grape. He told the king that she could spin gold out of common straw. The king summoned the girl and locked her in a room full of straw and told her to spin it into gold or she would die like a criminal. Poor grape with no one to pick. Luscious and round and sleek. Poor thing. To die and never see Brooklyn. (Rumpelstiltskin)
Anne SextonMy death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right.
Anne SextonAnd if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope
Anne SextonWomen tell time by the body. They are like clocks. They are always fastened to the earth, listening for its small animal noises.
Anne SextonIf I could blame it on all the mothers and fathers of the world, they of the lessons, the pellets of power, they of the love surrounding you like batter ... Blame it on God perhaps? He of the first opening that pushed us all into our first mistakes? No, I'll blame it on Man For Man is God and man is eating the earth up like a candy bar and not one of them can be left alone with the ocean for it is known he will gulp it all down. The stars (possibly) are safe. At least for the moment. The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
Anne Sexton