Edvard Munch, The Scream
by Michael Brett

Does the figure in the painting scream?
Or does it hear the scream of Nature?
The blue and narrow body,
The sky as red as Turner.

I look for the frozen earth, Arnold's lighthouse,
The bashful European earthquake;
Crewless Odysseus with his lucky voice
Standing in Pluto's shell hole,
Bribing his mother with some bleeding earth
So she will tell his fortune. She says:

Let us wade into the endless wars
As Greeks and holiday swimmers do:
Leaving our Euros with shoes and sweaters
On the beach.

Behind us, the cities are large aquaria
Where observed men and women sit alone and read
And check their email
In Perspex tube trains, panopticon work stations.

They seem immune
To the swaying crowds and flagpoles.

Now scream.

All together now.

Copyright © 2013 - Michael Brett
Published: 8/22/13   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem