Leah Browning

Leah Browning Poems
1. | Nourishment | 9/26/2005 |
2. | Grandma Bea Brushing Her Hair | 9/26/2005 |
3. | First Summer | 9/26/2005 |
4. | Insomnia | 11/5/2005 |
5. | Passages | 9/26/2005 |
6. | Valentine's Day, And We Are Still Separated | 9/26/2005 |
7. | Annie, On A Summer Afternoon | 2/12/2006 |
8. | We Argue About The Aesthetics Of Garbage | 5/14/2007 |
9. | New Mexico As The Heartland | 5/14/2007 |
10. | Naked | 5/14/2007 |
11. | On The Drive Back To Durango, I Wake Up In Taos | 6/15/2007 |
12. | I Go Back In Time And Rescue My Mother | 6/15/2007 |
13. | Damage | 4/2/2008 |
14. | Looking For What Is Lost | 4/2/2008 |
15. | Learning To Play Piano At Thirty | 8/14/2008 |
16. | The Religion Of Everyday Things | 8/14/2008 |
17. | The Patchwork Poem | 8/14/2008 |
18. | Making Love To The Same Man For Fifteen Years | 11/25/2008 |
19. | Cesarean | 11/25/2008 |
20. | Your Body Has Its Own Memory | 4/22/2006 |
21. | On A Winter Morning In Minnesota, I Drink Tea And Think Of Sarah | 8/14/2008 |
On A Winter Morning In Minnesota, I Drink Tea And Think Of Sarah
The snow falls in petals, as if, just outside
my range of vision, there is a wedding taking place
in the dim blue light of a winter morning.
I memorize each brushstroke of this
painting, the bare branches of our neighbor’s tree
framed by the white lace curtains
of my kitchen window, and brew
a cup of the five-flower tea
that you sent me from Washington.
By the time I fetch the children
from school, every muddy hill
and bank of gray, unmelted slush
will be draped in snow,
glittering blue-white in the cold sunlight.
For ...
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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