Something
cold is in the air,
an aura of ice
and phlegm.
All day I’ve built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.
The horizon bleeds
and sucks its thumb.
The little red thumb
goes out of sight.
And I wonder about
this lifetime with myself,
this dream I’m living.
I could eat the sky
like an apple
but I’d rather
ask the first star:
why am I here?
why do I live in this house?
who’s responsible?
eh?

Analysis, meaning and summary of Anne Sexton's poem The Fury Of Sunsets

1 Comment

  1. deasia lewis says:

    i dont freaking understand the meaning of this poem, could someone please help me understand.

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