My first semester of college, I was given the "task" of writing an essay that analyzed one of Anne Sexton's poems. I had never read her works before. The poem was entitled "The Abortion." It was quite a meaty work. Hard to stomach and the analyzation was astounding to a young woman who was fresh out of Arkansas and in her first year of college. But, it is an amazing poem. So, so gut wrenching and lyrical.
I happened across her again recently. I was looking up some of her works and up popped a poem entitled "Anna who was mad." It's a gorgeous poem and, as it bears my name, I (selfishly) took a look-see.
I'm sharing it with you.
Look her up. She's amazing.
"I have a knife in my armpit.
When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.
Am I some sort of infection?
Did I make you go insane?
Did I make the sounds go sour?
Did I tell you to climb out the window?
Forgive. Forgive.
Say not I did.
Say not.
Say.
Speak Mary-words into our pillow.
Take me the gangling twelve-year-old
into your sunken lap.
Whisper like a buttercup.
Eat me. Eat me up like cream pudding.
Take me in.
Take me.
Take.
Give me a report on the condition of my soul.
Give me a complete statement of my actions.
Hand me a jack-in-the-pulpit and let me listen in.
Put me in the stirrups and bring a tour group through.
Number my sins on the grocery list and let me buy.
Did I make you go insane?
Did I turn up your earphone and let a siren drive through?
Did I open the door for the mustached psychiatrist
who dragged you out like a gold cart?
Did I make you go insane?
From the grave write me, Anna!
You are nothing but ashes but nevertheless
pick up the Parker Pen I gave you.
Write me.
Write."
xoxo
Anna
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