Permission

I give you permission –

for the fuse inside her, for the bitch in her
and the burying of her wound –
for the burying of her small red wound alive –

for the pale flickering flare under her ribs,
for the drunken sailor who waits in her left pulse,
for the mother's knee, for the stockings,
for the garter belt, for the call –

Lines from For My Lover, Returning To His Wife, in Love Poems, Anne Sexton (1967)