| Maiden at the Stream Hans v. Volkmann, 1889 |
Butler Pennsylvania 50
Selling the House
What will happen to the paintings
when the house is up for sale
and an auction's taking place?
Will strangers stand around
on hardwood floors
twisting scratches into varnished floors
as bids dislodge our silent storytellers
from walls they spoke from
like windows opened
on worlds we longed for
and dreamed about?
Ah, won't all those
hand-clasped chins thrown back
and judgment noddings
frighten our poor shy
Maiden at the Stream,
fetching water as she did,
for us daily to watch,
teaching us what beauty was
and what it meant for us?
Had ever a day passed
without our glancing up at her
gladdened by her being there
never thinking she could leave.
What will we encounter
when feisty bargainers
stand sceptically calculating
before making each prize their own,
then shuffling off with it
unconscious of the pain they caused?
I see us now, standing there numb
staring at hooks and nails
in empty faded rectangles and squares
regretting we had let the paintings go,
and sadly being forced
to begin the long bitter process
of having
to learn
to live without.
Next Home
Comment
Selling the House
What will happen to the paintings
when the house is up for sale
and an auction's taking place?
Will strangers stand around
on hardwood floors
twisting scratches into varnished floors
as bids dislodge our silent storytellers
from walls they spoke from
like windows opened
on worlds we longed for
and dreamed about?
Ah, won't all those
hand-clasped chins thrown back
and judgment noddings
frighten our poor shy
Maiden at the Stream,
fetching water as she did,
for us daily to watch,
teaching us what beauty was
and what it meant for us?
Had ever a day passed
without our glancing up at her
gladdened by her being there
never thinking she could leave.
What will we encounter
when feisty bargainers
stand sceptically calculating
before making each prize their own,
then shuffling off with it
unconscious of the pain they caused?
I see us now, standing there numb
staring at hooks and nails
in empty faded rectangles and squares
regretting we had let the paintings go,
and sadly being forced
to begin the long bitter process
of having
to learn
to live without.
Next Home
Comment
