Thursday, January 28, 2016

January 28 --Alexis Fancher


On Edward Hopper's painting, "Morning Sun, 1952”

No one paints loneliness like he does. Those half-clad women by the bed, on
the floor, hunched over, staring out the window, in profile or from behind, 
always clean lines, such worshipful light. The gas station in the middle of 
nowhere, estranged couples on the bright-lit porch after dark. Even the boats 
sail alone. And the diners. The hatted strangers, coming on to a redhead, a 
moody blonde, all of them losers, all of them desperate for a second chance. 
This morning the sunlight pried open my eyes, flooded our bedroom walls. I
sat alone, in profile on our bed in a pink chemise, knees drawn up, arms 
crossed over my calves, staring out the window. Desperate for you. No one 
paints loneliness like Edward Hopper paints me, missing you, apologies on 
my lips. Come back. Stand below my window. Watch me beg for a second 
chance. Downturned mouth, teary eyes, parted knees, open thighs, that famous 
shaft of Hopper light a white flag, if only you could see.

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