I would like to bury <br />all the hating eyes <br />under the sand somewhere off <br />the North Atlantic and suffocate <br />them with the awful sand <br />and put all their colors to sleep <br />in that soft smother. <br />Take the brown eyes of my father, <br />those gun shots, those mean muds. <br />Bury them. <br />Take the blue eyes of my mother, <br />naked as the sea, <br />waiting to pull you down <br />where there is no air, no God. <br />Bury them. <br />Take the black eyes of my love, <br />coal eyes like a cruel hog, <br />wanting to whip you and laugh. <br />Bury them. <br />Take the hating eyes of martyrs, <br />presidents, bus collectors, <br />bank managers, soldiers. <br />Bury them. <br />Take my eyes, half blind <br />and falling into the air. <br />Bury them. <br />Take your eyes. <br />I come to the center, <br />where a shark looks up at death <br />and thinks of my heart <br />and squeeze it like a doughnut. <br />They'd like to take my eyes <br />and poke a hatpin through <br />their pupils. Not just to bury <br />but to stab. As for your eyes, <br />I fold up in front of them <br />in a baby ball and you send <br />them to the State Asylum. <br />Look! Look! Both those <br />mice are watching you <br />from behind the kind bars.<br /><br />Anne Sexton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fury-of-hating-eyes/
