English poetry

Poems in English

The Fury Of God's Goodbye

One day He
Tipped His top hat
And walked
Out of the room,
Ending the argument.
He stomped off
I don’t give guarantees.
I was left
Quite alone
Using up the darkness
I rolled up
My sweater,
Up in a ball,
And took it
To bed with me,
A kind of stand-in
For God,
That washerwoman
Who walks out
When you’re clean
But not ironed.
When I woke up
The sweater
Had turned to
Bricks of gold.
I’d won the world
But like a
Forsaken explorer,
I’d lost
My map.

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Poem The Fury Of God's Goodbye - Anne Sexton