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Her Kind
by Anne Sexton
I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.
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I have found the warm caves in the
woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings,
shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable
goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and
the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.
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waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes,
survivor where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.~
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2 comments:
Susan,
I`m so flattered that you like my work.
Hauntingly Cool! Amazing group of artist‘s and things I haven‘t seen before. Thanks for including me!
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