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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345373" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cripples and Other Stories</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My doctor, the comedian<br>I called you every time<br>and made you laugh yourself<br>when I wrote this silly rhyme...</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br> Each time I give lectures<br> or gather in the grants<br> you send me off to boarding school<br> in training pants.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God damn it, father-doctor, <br>I'm really thirty-six.<br>I see dead rats in the toilet.<br>I'm one of the lunatics.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Disgusted, mother put me<br>on the potty. She was good at this.<br>My father was fat on scotch.<br>It leaked from every orifice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh the enemas of childhood, <br>reeking of outhouses and shame! <br>Yet you rock me in your arms<br>and whisper my nickname.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or else you hold my hand<br>and teach me love too late.<br>And that's the hand of the arm<br>they tried to amputate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though I was almost seven<br>I was an awful brat.<br>I put it in the Easy Wringer.<br>It came out nice and flat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was an instant cripple<br>from my finger to my shoulder.<br>The laundress wept and swooned.<br>My mother had to hold her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know I was a cripple.<br>Of course, I'd known it from the start.<br>My father took the crowbar<br>and broke the wringer's heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The surgeons shook their heads.<br>They really didn't know-<br>Would the cripple inside of me<br>be a cripple that would show? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">My father was a perfect man, <br>clean and rich and fat.<br>My mother was a brilliant thing.<br>She was good at that.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You hold me in your arms.<br>How strange that you're so tender! <br>Child-woman that I am, <br>you think that you can mend her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As for the arm, <br>unfortunately it grew.<br>Though mother said a withered arm<br>would put me in Who's Who.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For years she has described it.<br>She sang it like a hymn.<br>By then she loved the shrunken thing, <br>my little withered limb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My father's cells clicked each night, <br>intent on making money.<br>And as for my cells, they brooded, <br>little queens, on honey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh boys too, as a matter of fact, <br>and cigarettes and cars.<br>Mother frowned at my wasted life.<br>My father smoked cigars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My cheeks blossomed with maggots.<br>I picked at them like pearls.<br>I covered them with pancake.<br>I wound my hair in curls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My father didn't know me<br>but you kiss me in my fever.<br>My mother knew me twice<br>and then I had to leave her.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But those are just two stories<br>and I have more to tell<br>from the outhouse, the greenhouse<br>where you draw me out of hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Father, I am thirty-six, <br>yet I lie here in your crib.<br>I'm getting born again, Adam, <br>as you prod me with your rib.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345373" data-title="Cripples and Other Stories de Anne Sexton" data-description="My doctor, the comedian
I called you every time
and made you laugh yourself
when I wrote this silly rhyme...


 Each time I give lectures
 or gather in the grants
 you send me off to boarding school
 in training pants.

God damn it, father-doctor,..."></div>
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