Thursday, January 10, 2019

Melanie Browne

Posing  In front of "The execution of Lady Jane Grey"

By Paul Delaroche,
we take selfies,
first mom and then me

We get confused,
telling each other loudly
"This is one of Henry's wives,"

But no,
it isn't

it's an easy mistake
to make,

We had just seen
Henry's bulbous
portrait &
that puts one in
the mind of

& slender
goose necks

One of her ladies in waiting
holds what appears to be a rosary
a look of deep horror on her face

But here at the art museum
we make it a fun occasion
if there had been champagne

We'd have drunk it

On without End

He heard the bells,
those bells

He told his mom
& sister,
"I hear bells,"

He drank too much bourbon
and wasn't religious
but they were there,
the bells

One day he wandered
toward St. Luke Street
following the bells,
and drank a beer
tucked tightly
into a corner

He was tired,
even his voice
was tired,
almost too tired
to mouth
"I'll have another,"

& as he stumbled home
the bells stumbled
with him,

tripping over his
front stoop
and into his cold bed

and with him
the bells, those bells


Melanie Browne is a poet and fiction writer living in Texas. 

1 comment:

  1. Supreme writing! Exceptional insights and delivery and art that leaves me with a readerly thirst for more. Keep going!