At the Met

The museum guard watches me as I look at the Degas. Her legs are tired and her face is a sketch of cross-hatch shadows. She is paid a little more than the minimum wage to watch the watchers. It is an art. Over the years, all the faces she’s seen. At 5:00, she’ll board the subway, close her eyes for a short railway nap, dream of the blank, colorless walls at home that forever need painting.

Brad Rose was born and raised in southern California, and lives in Boston. Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared in: The Baltimore Review, Off the Coast, Third Wednesday, The Potomac, San Pedro River Review, Santa Fe Literary Review, Barely South Review, Right Hand Pointing, Sleet, Boston Literary Magazine, Monkeybicycle, Camroc Press Review, Short, Fast, and Deadly, and other publications. Links to his poetry and fiction can be found at: http://bradrosepoetry.blogspot.com. His chapbook of miniature fiction, Coyotes Circle the Party Store, can be read at https://sites.google.com/site/bradroserhpchapbook. Audio recordings of a selection of Brad’s published poetry can be heard here: https://soundcloud.com/bradrose1.

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