Three Poems by Kirby Wright

Notes From the Hanged Woman

Face it, we are wind
From womb to the blue prom.
 
Remember me licking
Cream off your belly?
 
Creation and death
Harbor in beds.
 
I forget why I hate you
Yet want to keep my investment.
 
I take my wrinkles to bed,
Hoping to dream young.
 
Cold tea on nightstand.
Cat camped between my legs.
 
Listen for the cracked dawn.
The riot is close.






I Found You
            in memory of Laurie

I found you in the obits.
We held hands during the 70s.
My father drove us to the concert.
We were destined to marry.
 
We held hands during the 70s.
Sorry I was late for the party.
We were destined to marry.
I hated you for wanting that singer.
 
Sorry I was late for the party.
Notes from our song play in my head.
I hated you for wanting that singer.
You wore tight white cords.
 
Notes from our song play in my head.
My father drove us to the concert.
You wore tight white cords.
I found you in the obits.
 





The End of Art

The wooden bench painted gray warms in morning sun. The exhibition is over, its artists shuffling sculptures and paintings in and out
of the burnt yellow museum as thick as a Russian wrestler. They balance blood-and-sweat creations on defeated walks over courtyard cobbles. Display time has died. The aborted babies are packed away in trunks, strapped to roofs, and buckled into seats. The artists drive off into wind that rustles the reeds in the Baltic shallows. The snow’s on its way.





Bio: Kirby Wright's first play was performed at the Secret Theatre's 2016 One Act Festival in New York.