My poem Automat is up today at the Ekphrastic Review. Here is the art and the poem.
Automat

I imagine she looked
much like this—
abandoned
at the Horn & Hardart
near the public library.
The cloche is new—
always a frugal girl,
she saved her spare change
to buy it.
She has been waiting
much more than an hour—
the wretched coffee
has long gone cold.
I promised I would be there.
“To talk,” I said.
“To patch things up.”
Lonely now
in a new way,
she can only wonder
why I’ve chosen not to.
Perhaps a more
talented artist than I
might paint
my likeness
as I sit at a similar table
crosstown.
And buried somewhere in that painting
might lie the answer—
in the worry lines
around my eyes,
or in the tremor
captured
in the stillness of my hands?
I don’t know.
Do we ever
really know?
It’s been years now,
and painting this picture
has given me one last chance
to make amends—
to place myself at your table.
oh wow, steve, what a great poem – speaks a gut truth about this iconic painting
m
Mary Rohrer-Dann
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
Mary Oliver “The Summer Day”
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Thanks Mary. Ekphrastic poems seem to write themselves immediately after I see the art. Or, nothing comes. And then, I can stare at it forever and it will still lead to nothing. Do you have a similar experience?
Sent from my iPad
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