April 2020
Tom Montag
tmmontag@centurylink.net
Author's Note   "The Woman in an Imaginary Painting" is a series that has been coming in a rush. Imagining a painting and the woman in it allows me to look at (and to say) things that otherwise might not occur to me. I don't know what started this, nor how it will end, but here we go, for as long as she continues. Poets may think they are in charge of their work, but really they're not, as this series is proving to me daily.

Three Poems
from "The Woman in an Imaginary Painting" series

There is a name
for that mark of

white paint beside
her. Does it rhyme

with tedium? She
doesn't know. She

doesn't say why
she poses. She

doesn't tremble,
waiting. She

simply waits.

_____________________

The light
welcomes us.

To touch her
is to sing.

Silence is not
an absence

but a prayer.
And, on the hills

in the distance,
rain.

_____________________

The woman
in the painting

bends into
herself. She

bends in-
to herself.

She bends
into her-

self. It feels
good to her.

It feels
good.
©2020 Tom Montag
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