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'Her Kind' by Anne Sexton
lyrics
I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.
I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.
I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.
'Song for Mary Black' is an enigma wrapped in an epiphany wrapped in a dream. It's the kind of song that makes you ask yourself: 'What have I done to deserve this? How am I allowed to bathe in such gorgeousness?' On par with Seefeel's 'Cherry Coloured Funk'-remix. Only gripe: it should be twice as long. Stellar. lbi