While the man is away
telling his wife
about the red-corseted woman,
the woman waits
on the queen-sized bed.
You'd expect her quiet
in the fist of a copper
statue. Half her face,
a shade of golden meringue,
the other half, the dark
of cattails. Her mouth even—
too straight, as if she doubted
her made decision, the way
women do. In her hands,
a yellow letter creased,
like her hunched back.
Her dress limp on a green chair.
In front, a man's satchel
and briefcase. On a dresser,
a hat with a ceylon
feather. That is all
the artist left us with,
knowing we would turn
the woman's stone into ours,
a thirst for the self
in everything—even
in the sweet chinks
I liked the poem a lot better before I searched the photo. I don't know anything about painting or art, but this painting Is packed full of story. I read a mixed mood in the poem (goldens, greens, and yellows), yet the painting isn't mixed to me. The colors are flat and give an unpleasant mood.
ReplyDeleteI love the ending of the poem though. That should be the whole poem along with the painting. "That is all the artist left us with, knowing we would turn the woman's stone into our own, a thirst for self in everthing." Dang I'm thirsty!
I loved your response to this. I felt so similar when I looked at the painting- my mind had already created a picture before seeing it and it was different than what I got on my own. Yes, the creative freedom the author gives "knowing we would turn the woman's stone into our own, a thirst for self in everything". Such beautiful lines...within the somber feeling we get when reading. Walking in another shoe's....the author describes the situation before uniting our emotion with the emotion of the woman with the letter.
ReplyDelete