“Young girls in old Arabia were often buried alive next
to their fathers, apparently as sacrifice to the goddesses
of the tribes…”

–Harold Feldman, “Children of the Desert” Psychoanalysis
and Psychoanalytic Review, Fall 1958

It was only important
to smile and hold still,
to lie down beside him
and to rest awhile,
to be folded up together
as if we were silk,
to sink from the eyes of mother
and not to talk.
The black room took us
like a cave or a mouth
or an indoor belly.
I held my breath
and daddy was there,
his thumbs, his fat skull,
his teeth, his hair growing
like a field or a shawl.
I lay by the moss
of his skin until
it grew strange. My sisters
will never know that I fall
out of myself and pretend
that Allah will not see
how I hold my daddy
like an old stone tree.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Anne Sexton's poem The Moss Of His Skin

1 Comment

  1. annie davidson says:

    i thought this poem had great structure and fantastic imagery, i have recently looked up some of her work and find it profoundly interesting. i think that she is a great poet with unusual and unique thoughts and a fantastic way of expressing herself.

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