Dirty Mondays: “The Fury Of Cocks” by Anne Sexton

The Fury Of Cocks

There they are
drooping over the breakfast plates,
angel-like,
folding in their sad wing,
animal sad,
and only the night before
there they were
playing the banjo.
Once more the day’s light comes
with its immense sun,
its mother trucks,
its engines of amputation.
Whereas last night
the cock knew its way home,
as stiff as a hammer,
battering in with all
its awful power.
That theater.
Today it is tender,
a small bird,
as soft as a baby’s hand.
She is the house.
He is the steeple.
When they fuck they are God.
When they break away they are God.
When they snore they are God.
In the morning they butter the toast.
They don’t say much.
They are still God.
All the cocks of the world are God,
blooming, blooming, blooming
into the sweet blood of woman.

Anne Sexton (born Anne Gray Harvey) (1928—1974, Weston) was an American poet and writer. The Fury of Cocks was written in 1960.

If you’ve got a suggestion for Monday’s dirty poem, don’t hesitate to get in touch…

Posted March 30, 2009 | Comments Off on Dirty Mondays: “The Fury Of Cocks” by Anne Sexton.
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“The Ballad of a Lonely Masturbator” by Anne Sexton

Cold, isn’t it? In the UK we’re all back to work today, and I imagine the situation is pretty similar where you are. Still, chin up, welcome back to Dirty Mondays. Anne Sexton knows how to keep warm…

The Ballad of a Lonely Masturbator

The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
Tonight, alone, I marry the bed.

Anne Sexton

If you’ve got a suggestion for Monday’s dirty poem, don’t hesitate to get in touch

Posted January 5, 2009 | Comments Off on “The Ballad of a Lonely Masturbator” by Anne Sexton.
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