Smells Like Her Kind

[Aish]

There's something decidedly unpoetic
about Anne Sexton touching her kids.
Sometimes the Boston housewife seems
more akin to dead rock stars than Blake,
Shelley or Frost. Her nihilism, darkling faith, I like your use of 'darkling'. For some reason it conjured fingerling potatoes, and that tied in nicely with housewifery for me as well as all things nebulous and nihilistic.
how she relied on both to live,
the descent into sickness and death.
How teenagers who laud sadness,
and being thought outside the norm,
have claimed her like a grim Scout badge. Those teenagers who are so cliche in their desire to stand apart and hormonal angst. I adore the grim Scout Badge so much so I can see a Hot Topic knock off in my head.

When I think of Sexton I don't think of Blake
poised at his desk for some painter, I wonder if a semicolon would work here?
I imagine Kurt Cobain doodling the lyrics to
a generation's get out clause. Excellent ending, Jack.