Each night I am nailed into place and forget who I am. Daddy? That's another kind of prison. It's not the prince at all, but my fatherdrunkeningly bends over my bed, circling the abyss like a shark, my father thick upon melike some sleeping jellyfish. What voyage is this, little girl? This coming out of prison? God help -this life after death?
— Anne Sexton
Transformations
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