By Gene Twaronite
I stare impolitely,
captivated by the artist’s ensnaring
strokes that demand we enter
and drink in every detail—
the roundness of breast and dune,
the letter received and the slim body
folding like a dying flower,
the man sitting on a bed next to
the reclining woman
and a book unread,
the bright stockinged legs
beneath the table when
all else seems dark,
the fading faces as the distance
between them grows,
the flaming orange dress
and the cleavage
of land and sky by sea.
Some see resignation in their faces
and a sense of quiet defeat.
But as two nighthawks
plot their next move, I see only
defiance and resolution
that come the dawn
they will break free
of the artist’s bonds
and leave this burg behind.
While I am still locked
in that bright diner
next to two empty seats.
Gene Twaronite is a Tucson poet, essayist, and children’s fiction writer. He is the author of nine books, including two juvenile fantasy novels as well as collections of essays, short stories, and poems, and a forthcoming picture book. His poetry book Trash Picker on Mars was the winner of the 2017 New Mexico-Arizona Book Award for Arizona poetry. His latest book is My Life as a Sperm: Essays from the Absurd Side. Follow more of Gene’s writing at his website: thetwaronitezone.com.
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Wonderful, Gene. Your poetry brings the artwork alive–with smiles.
Thank you,
Sandra