The Breast

I wear silk, the cover to uncover
because silk is what I want you think of.
But I dislike the cloth. It is too stern.

So tell me anything but track me like a climber
for here is the eye, here is the jewel,
here is the excitement the nipple learns.

I am unbalanced — but I am not mad with snow.
I am mad the way young girls are mad,
with an offering, an offering…

– Anne Sexton, from The Breast, in Love Poems

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