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Leah Browning
Leah Browning Poems
| 1. | Annie, On A Summer Afternoon | 2/12/2006 |
| 2. | We Argue About The Aesthetics Of Garbage | 5/14/2007 |
| 3. | New Mexico As The Heartland | 5/14/2007 |
| 4. | Naked | 5/14/2007 |
| 5. | On The Drive Back To Durango, I Wake Up In Taos | 6/15/2007 |
| 6. | I Go Back In Time And Rescue My Mother | 6/15/2007 |
| 7. | Damage | 4/2/2008 |
| 8. | Looking For What Is Lost | 4/2/2008 |
| 9. | Learning To Play Piano At Thirty | 8/14/2008 |
| 10. | The Religion Of Everyday Things | 8/14/2008 |
| 11. | Nourishment | 9/26/2005 |
| 12. | Grandma Bea Brushing Her Hair | 9/26/2005 |
| 13. | First Summer | 9/26/2005 |
| 14. | Insomnia | 11/5/2005 |
| 15. | Passages | 9/26/2005 |
| 16. | Making Love To The Same Man For Fifteen Years | 11/25/2008 |
| 17. | Cesarean | 11/25/2008 |
| 18. | On A Winter Morning In Minnesota, I Drink Tea And Think Of Sarah | 8/14/2008 |
| 19. | Your Body Has Its Own Memory | 4/22/2006 |
| 20. | Valentine's Day, And We Are Still Separated | 9/26/2005 |
| 21. | The Patchwork Poem | 8/14/2008 |
The Patchwork Poem
Skin scrubbed clean and glowing
after a shower, the scent of shampoo.
Lying in bed on a winter morning
with the baby asleep between us.
Our fingers pressed together
in the dark of a movie theater.
The sound of laughter. Always,
the sound of laughter.
Walking downtown
and back home again.
Night by the river.
What you said, what I said.
I’ll bind these things together,
trim the loose threads, work until
the separate pieces
form one piece—skin-soft,
yet durable, too, because
I mean it to last you ...
Nourishment
I wake in the night to find you
nestled close to me under the quilt,
your tiny hands stroking my breast.
You nurse and nurse, not even opening
your beautiful sleepy eyes, the lids threaded
with delicate blue veins. This, our
dim sanctuary. It’s raining outside, holy
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