Ash Can School
 
On what would she lean,
this pallid girl,
if not for green walls
and a splintered table top.
Where would she lie
but for a straight back chair
on which to hang her blouse,
a rumpled bed
to bear her skirt
and a blanket on the couch.

And how 
would she depart this painted room
--not by that dirty, rectangular glass
that holds the imprint of her hand,
nor by the pillow, 
fallen to the floor--
when you, 
with easel, oils, and brush,
and moving hand
are standing at the door.
     

  
Next
Contents
Home page