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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 ...
Naked
I am undressing right now,
in front of you. It’s not
a sexual act, but an act
of devotion. Look: you can see me.
I unbutton my blouse, slide my skirt
down over my hips. I kick off
my shoes. Here I am, stripping down
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