The Great Mirror of Same-Sex Love - Prose - 38. Anne Sexton "There the snow was, beautiful and terrible"

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There the snow was, beautiful and terrible

[February 15]

Anne dear, your jet-plane letter today, full of your exhaustions of the literary life, and your mentions of the yellow note I wrote that you carried with you to class . . . .

I’m glad you liked my little note. It meant I love you.

It still does.

The music (Scott! [Sexton’s stereo]) is playing strong. I was just lying on the couch in my room looking out casually and I saw with shock the roof, snow lined, shining in the moonlight. When I saw that, it hurt. I felt this awful pain. Does that make sense. A winter roof in the snow . . . ? There it was, beautiful and terrible. I thought I’d tell you.

It made me cry.

I don’t dare walk outside where the sky must hurt even

extra with its full load of stars. The sky outside must ring.

I thought of sending you a valentine. I started, and then I

never did. There are no valentines good enough, I said.

The winter has had little snow. Out here, where I live, there

are Black Oak trees, but since so much new building has been

going on in this neighborhood, there are no birds. When I

hear a bird at someone else’s house, I want to go out and

kiss its throat. There is a fireplace in my writing

room and lots of wood to burn. No view at all. No

water. The kitchen is very sunny and I sit at the

kitchen table often in the sun and muse. […]

Please miss us. You are always here,

In everyone’s heart.

I’ll return Hanna’s letter when

I can put down her compliments.

Your valentine.

—Anne Sexton,[i]

1965