Megan J. Arlett

THE FIFTH MARQUESS OF ANGLESEY

The marquess made love curiously. In lieu of the deed, he laid me down
like a butterfly on a pinning board, used a Parisian sapphire ring

to crown my areola. Lily, where are all those airs and petticoats now?
the mind whispered. An enamel portrait brooch

on my sternum. His favourite emerald tiara, a silver and ritz nest
upon my head. Each morning he hummed and hawed

between one hundred tailored dressing gowns, he powdered his face
pale as marble so I might imagine my husband any Greek or Roman

demigod I desired. Oh honey, no, it wasn’t for his inheritance
that I tried so hard to love him—though, I suppose, one easily could.

One winter, snows on the island cut the estate off for a week.
All five vehicles veiled in whiteness, the servants up to their waists in diamonds

and quartz and pearls. This was before the creditors gave even the parrot
a new home, when Henry wished for nothing besides beauty

and the world’s largest collection of bespoke walking sticks. We sat by the fire
in our furs reading Wilde to each other, his ostrich feather

headdress dancing like a theatre troupe as he took his tea. The dogs
with their rose and pendant ears in our laps for days in that orange room

and its scraps of light. His oblivious mouth filled with stage directions.
Our laughter. My single, roaming hunger.

MEGAN J. ARLETT was born in the UK, grew up in Spain, and now lives in Texas, where she is pursuing her PhD. The recipient of two Academy of American Poets Prizes, her work has received two Academy of American Poets Prizes and appears in Best New Poets 2019, Best New British and Irish Poets, The Kenyon Review, Ninth Letter, Passages North, Prairie Schooner, and Third Coast.