Saturday, August 30, 2014

Melanie Browne- Three Poems

Cause I ain't in no hurry at all....

men with sleeve tattoos
wait in line for barbecue and beer,
we eat fried pies and feel like
young women with
babies on their hips
pull out fresh cigarettes,
confederate soldiers
wear grooves in their
trench, the past
and present a mosaic
in the burning Vicksburg sky

Ignatius Doesn't live here anymore

In N'awlins we buy 
vintage rock t-shirts
and voodoo dolls,
I practice poking the pins
into my dolly,
she is supposed to
give you nice dreams,
I hear snippets of conversation,
a woman sitting on some steps
is talking with her hands,
"She reached around and 
grabbed his dick like this,"
she stands up to demonstrate,
but we are rushing back to the
car, the humidity 
and the Everclear
already taking their toll,
I kiss New Orleans goodbye and
head back into the heat
a strange new energy
buzzing in my head

Savannah Ghosts get a little bit thirsty

they wander in circles under
the soft green moss,
one hand holding a drink,
the ice melts and drips
from the sides of their Venetian
glass, the other hand holds a
cigarette with blue tinged smoke,
Savannah ghosts get a little thirsty,
it's the humidity and their terrible
memories, the buildings that
light up at night like ancient
shipwrecks, the skulls of
sea-captains, the jazz
that drifts out from
the orange angry sky,
Savannah ghosts walk
in circles under the
soft green moss,
it drips from their hair on
to the soft, soft ground

No comments:

Post a Comment