:: anne sexton ::
Ghosts Some ghosts are women, neither abstract nor pale, their breasts as limp as killed fish.Not witches, but ghostswho come, moving their useless armslike forsaken servants.Not all ghosts are women, I have see others;fat, white-bellied men, wearing their genitais like old rags.Not devils, but ghosts.This one thumps barefoot, lurchingabove my bed.But that isn’t all.Some ghosts [...]