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Anne Sexton - LamentAnne Sexton - Lament
Work rating: Medium


Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole. I think… I think I could have stopped it, if I`d been as firm as a nurse or noticed the neck of the driver as he cheated the crosstown lights; or later in the evening, if I`d held my napkin over my mouth.   I think I could… if I`d been different, or wise, or calm, I think I could have charmed the table, the stained dish or the hand of the dealer.   But it`s done. It`s all used up. There`s no doubt about the trees spreading their thin feet into the dry grass. A Canada goose rides up, spread out like a gray suede shirt, honking his nose into the March wind.   In the entryway a cat breathes calmly into her watery blue fur. The supper dishes are over and the sun unaccustomed to anything else goes an the way down.
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