The Friday Poem: ‘ANNE BOLEYN' by Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio
ANNE BOLEYN
I had always wanted to be a person
Who said things like:
'I gotta get me some of that' or 'all hope has been dashed'
But instead, I was Anne Boleyn
Sweating through my guillotine
At the middle school Halloween dance
No one knew me
Or what I was
Not even my own history teacher
Who once let me eat sunflower seeds
From a locked drawer in her desk
I felt my entire life had been obvious:
My rented gown
My lentil colored wig
But when she asked who I was dressed as
I was crushed
Which is to say, beheaded
And having never had a husband
And having never been to England
I knew myself to be lonelier
Than the real Anne Boleyn
So I stood there– sad as an anchovy
Haunting the wall of the gym
Until my mom came
And in the parking lot
I took off my wig
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The Friday Poem: ‘ANNE BOLEYN' by Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio
A new poem by Luciana Arbus-Scandiffio. ANNE BOLEYN I had always wanted to be a person Who said things like: 'I gotta get me some of that' or 'all hope has been dashed' But instead, I was Anne Boleyn Sweating through my guillotine At the middle school Halloween dance No one knew me Or what I was Not even my own history teacher Who once let me eat sunflower seeds From a locked drawer in her desk I felt my entire life had been obvious: My rented gown My lentil colored wig But when she asked who I was dressed as I was crushed Which is to say, beheaded And having never had a husband And having never been to England I knew myself to be lonelier Than the real Anne Boleyn So I stood there– sad as an anchovy Haunting the wall of the gym Until my mom came And in the parking lot I took off my wig
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