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