the wounds of anne sexton drip open, wine-red, composing the surface of water …by Jonah Meyer
anne sexton, at what point were you surprised to see the waters still rippling in the long island sound?
anne sexton, 2 o’clock on a tuesday, august 1960, has everything happened, or has nothing happened at all?
anne sexton, did your sun-drenched yellow dress add light upon light under intrusion of the pock-filled hospital room ceiling, nurses and doctors with scissors in hand, making origami of your tender pale skin?
how much for the poem, anne sexton? how much for the sea? how much your pack of cigarettes, dangling from a sunburnt hand relaxed on the pane of the ship, and where, by the way, is your wallet? where, your keys?
anne sexton in the age of luminous eyes!
anne sexton, composing ‘keep off!’ against the
lovely surface of the sea.
anne sexton, the good fat plump happy babies have sunk snug into their carriages heavy like stones, and so why are you saddened, why
anne sexton says nothing at all.
is as fragile as sponge.
light as a cup of milk.
Jonah Meyer is a North Carolina-based poet and writer. He’s been published in O.Henry, Ampersand Literary, Carolina Peacemaker, Bohemian Review, American Crises, JAB Poetry, Found Spaces, Cold Lake Anthology, and The Mountaineer. Jonah plays guitar, studies neuroscience, and shoots photography. He is Associate Poetry Editor of Mud Season Review.