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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hurry Up Please It's Time</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">What is death, I ask. <br>What is life, you ask. <br>I give them both my buttocks, <br>my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana. <br>They are neat as a wallet, <br>opening and closing on their coins, <br>the quarters, the nickels, <br>straight into the crapper. <br>Why shouldn't I pull down my pants <br>and moon the executioner <br>as well as paste raisins on my breasts? <br>Why shouldn't I pull down my pants <br>and show my little cunny to Tom <br>and Albert? They wee-wee funny. <br>I wee-wee like a squaw. <br>I have ink but no pen, still <br>I dream that I can piss in God's eye. <br>I dream I'm a boy with a zipper. <br>It's so practical, la de dah. <br>The trouble with being a woman, Skeezix, <br>is being a little girl in the first place. <br>Not all the books of the world will change that. <br>I have swallowed an orange, being woman. <br>You have swallowed a ruler, being man. <br>Yet waiting to die we are the same thing. <br>Jehovah pleasures himself with his axe <br>before we are both overthrown. <br>Skeezix, you are me. La de dah. <br>You grow a beard but our drool is identical. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Forgive us, Father, for we know not. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Today is November 14th, 1972. <br>I live in Weston, Mass., Middlesex County, <br>U.S.A., and it rains steadily <br>in the pond like white puppy eyes. <br>The pond is waiting for its skin. <br>the pond is waiting for its leather. <br>The pond is waiting for December and its Novocain. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It begins: </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Interrogator: <br>What can you say of your last seven days? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anne: <br>They were tired. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Interrogator: <br>One day is enough to perfect a man. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anne: <br>I watered and fed the plant. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My undertaker waits for me. <br>he is probably twenty-three now, <br>learning his trade. <br>He'll stitch up the gren, <br>he'll fasten the bones down <br>lest they fly away. <br>I am flying today. <br>I am not tired today. <br>I am a motor. <br>I am cramming in the sugar. <br>I am running up the hallways. <br>I am squeezing out the milk. <br>I am dissecting the dictionary. <br>I am God, la de dah. <br>Peanut butter is the American food. <br>We all eat it, being patriotic. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ms. Dog is out fighting the dollars, <br>rolling in a field of bucks. <br>You've got it made if you take the wafer, <br>take some wine, <br>take some bucks, <br>the green papery song of the office. <br>What a jello she could make with it, <br>the fives, the tens, the twenties, <br>all in a goo to feed the baby. <br>Andrew Jackson as an hors d'oeuvre, <br>la de dah. <br>I wish I were the U.S. Mint, <br>turning it all out, <br>turtle green <br>and monk black. <br>Who's that at the podium <br>in black and white, <br>blurting into the mike? <br>Ms. Dog. <br>Is she spilling her guts? <br>You bet. <br>Otherwise they cough… <br>The day is slipping away, why am I <br>out here, what do they want? <br>I am sorrowful in November… <br>(no they don't want that, <br>they want bee stings). <br>Toot, toot, tootsy don't cry. <br>Toot, toot, tootsy good-bye. <br>If you don't get a letter then <br>you'll know I'm in jail… <br>Remember that, Skeezix, <br>our first song? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Who's thinking those things? <br>Ms. Dog! She's out fighting the dollars. <br>Milk is the American drink. <br>Oh queens of sorrows, <br>oh water lady, <br>place me in your cup <br>and pull over the clouds <br>so no one can see. <br>She don't want no dollars. <br>She done want a mama. <br>The white of the white. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anne says: <br>This is the rainy season. <br>I am sorrowful in November. <br>The kettle is whistling. <br>I must butter the toast. <br>And give it jam too. <br>My kitchen is a heart. <br>I must feed it oxygen once in a while <br>and mother the mother. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Say the woman is forty-four. <br>Say she is five seven-and-a-half. <br>Say her hair is stick color. <br>Say her eyes are chameleon. <br>Would you put her in a sack and bury her, <br>suck her down into the dumb dirt? <br>Some would. <br>If not, time will. <br>Ms. Dog, how much time you got left? <br>Ms. Dog, when you gonna feel that cold nose? <br>You better get straight with the Maker <br>cuz it's coming, it's a coming! <br>The cup of coffee is growing and growing <br>and they're gonna stick your little doll's head <br>into it and your lungs a gonna get paid <br>and your clothes a gonna melt. <br>Hear that, Ms. Dog! <br>You of the songs, <br>you of the classroom, <br>you of the pocketa-pocketa, <br>you hungry mother, <br>you spleen baby! <br>Them angels gonna be cut down like wheat. <br>Them songs gonna be sliced with a razor. <br>Them kitchens gonna get a boulder in the belly. <br>Them phones gonna be torn out at the root. <br>There's power in the Lord, baby, <br>and he's gonna turn off the moon. <br>He's gonna nail you up in a closet <br>and there'll be no more Atlantic, <br>no more dreams, no more seeds. <br>One noon as you walk out to the mailbox <br>He'll snatch you up - <br>a wopman beside the road like a red mitten. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's a sack over my head. <br>I can't see. I'm blind. <br>The sea collapses. <br>The sun is a bone. <br>Hi-ho the derry-o, <br>we all fall down. <br>If I were a fisherman I could comprehend. <br>They fish right through the door <br>and pull eyes from the fire. <br>They rock upon the daybreak <br>and amputate the waters. <br>They are beating the sea, <br>they are hurting it, <br>delving down into the inscrutable salt. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When mother left the room <br>and left me in the big black <br>and sent away my kitty <br>to be fried in the camps <br>and took away my blanket <br>to wash the me out of it <br>I lay in the soiled cold and prayed. <br>It was a little jail in which <br>I was never slapped with kisses. <br>I was the engine that couldn't. <br>Cold wigs blew on the trees outside <br>and car lights flew like roosters <br>on the ceiling. <br>Cradle, you are a grave place. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Interrogator: <br>What color is the devil? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anne: <br>Black and blue. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Interrogator: <br>What goes up the chimney? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anne: <br>Fat Lazarus in his red suit. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Forgive us, Father, for we know not. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ms. Dog prefers to sunbathe nude. <br>Let the indifferent sky look on. <br>So what! <br>Let Mrs. Sewal pull the curtain back, <br>from her second story. <br>So what! <br>Let United Parcel Service see my parcel. <br>La de dah. <br>Sun, you hammer of yellow, <br>you hat on fire, <br>you honeysuckle mama, <br>pour your blonde on me! <br>Let me laugh for an entire hour <br>at your supreme being, your Cadillac stuff, <br>because I've come a long way <br>from Brussels sprouts. <br>I've come a long way to peel off my clothes <br>and lay me down in the grass. <br>Once only my palms showed. <br>Once I hung around in my woolly tank suit, <br>drying my hair in those little meatball curls. <br>Now I am clothed in gold air with <br>one dozen halos glistening on my skin. <br>I am a fortunate lady. <br>I've gotten out of my pouch <br>and my teeth are glad <br>and my heart, that witness, <br>beats well at the thought. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Oh body, be glad. <br>You are good goods. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Middle-class lady, <br>you make me smile. <br>You dig a hole <br>and come out with a sunburn. <br>If someone hands you a glass of water <br>you start constructing a sailboat. <br>If someone hands you a candy wrapper, <br>you take it to the book binder. <br>Pocketa-pocketa. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Once upon a time Ms. Dog was sixty-six. <br>She had white hair and wrinkles deep as splinters. <br>her portrait was nailed up like Christ <br>and she said of it: <br>That's when I was forty-two, <br>down in Rockport with a hat on for the sun, <br>and Barbara drew a line drawing. <br>We were, at that moment, drinking vodka <br>and ginger beer and there was a chill in the air, <br>although it was July, and she gave me her sweater <br>to bundle up in. The next summer Skeezix tied <br>strings in that hat when we were fishing in Maine. <br>(It had gone into the lake twice.) <br>Of such moments is happiness made. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Forgive us, Father, for we know not. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Once upon a time we were all born, <br>popped out like jelly rolls <br>forgetting our fishdom, <br>the pleasuring seas, <br>the country of comfort, <br>spanked into the oxygens of death, <br>Good morning life, we say when we wake, <br>hail mary coffee toast <br>and we Americans take juice, <br>a liquid sun going down. <br>Good morning life. <br>To wake up is to be born. <br>To brush your teeth is to be alive. <br>To make a bowel movement is also desireable. <br>La de dah, <br>it's all routine. <br>Often there are wars <br>yet the shops keep open <br>and sausages are still fried. <br>People rub someone. <br>People copulate <br>entering each other's blood, <br>tying each other's tendons in knots, <br>transplanting their lives into the bed. <br>It doesn't matter if there are wars, <br>the business of life continues <br>unless you're the one that gets it. <br>Mama, they say, as their intestines <br>leak out. Even without wars <br>life is dangerous. <br>Boats spring leaks. <br>Cigarettes explode. <br>The snow could be radioactive. <br>Cancer could ooze out of the radio. <br>Who knows? <br>Ms. Dog stands on the shore <br>and the sea keeps rocking in <br>and she wants to talk to God. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Interrogator: <br>Why talk to God? </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Anne: <br>It's better than playing bridge. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Learning to talk is a complex business. <br>My daughter's first word was utta, <br>meaning button. <br>Before there are words <br>do you dream? <br>In utero <br>do you dream? <br>Who taught you to suck? <br>And how come? <br>You don't need to be taught to cry. <br>The soul presses a button. <br>Is the cry saying something? <br>Does it mean help? <br>Or hello? <br>The cry of a gull is beautiful <br>and the cry of a crow is ugly <br>but what I want to know <br>is whether they mean the same thing. <br>Somewhere a man sits with indigestion <br>and he doesn't care. <br>A woman is buying bracelets <br>and earrings and she doesn't care. <br>La de dah. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Forgive us, Father, for we know not. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=345397" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There are stars and faces. <br>There is ketchup and guitars. <br>There is the hand of a small child <br>when you're crossing the street. <br>There is the old man's last words: <br>More light! More light! <br>Ms. Dog wouldn't give them her buttocks. <br>She wouldn't moon at them. <br>Just at the killers of the dream. <br>The bus boys of the soul. <br>Or at death <br>who wants to make her a mummy. <br>And you too! <br>Wants to stuf her in a cold shoe <br>and then amputate the foot. <br>And you too! <br>La de dah. <br>What's the point of fighting the dollars <br>when all you need is a warm bed? <br>When the dog barks you let him in. <br>All we need is someone to let us in. <br>And one other thing: <br>to consider the lilies in the field. <br>Of course earth is a stranger, we pull at its <br>arms and still it won't speak. <br>The sea is worse. <br>It comes in, falling to its knees <br>but we can't translate the language. <br>It is only known that they are here to worship, <br>to worship the terror of the rain, <br>the mud and all its people, <br>the body itself, <br>working like a city, <br>the night and its slow blood <br>the autumn sky, mary blue. <br>but more than that, <br>to worship the question itself, <br>though the buildings burn <br>and the big people topple over in a faint. <br>Bring a flashlight, Ms. Dog, <br>and look in every corner of the brain <br>and ask and ask and ask <br>until the kingdom, <br>however queer,<br>will come.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a></strong></div>

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