Author's Note: Yes, she continues to speak to me, the woman in the imaginary painting. We continue, slowly. Push on, she says. Push on.
from "The Woman in an Imaginary Painting" What moral might one draw from a bowl of fruit or the naked woman in the painting? What lesson is there to be learned from light, color, form. Canvas is canvas, whatever is painted on it. Help me, she says. I cannot escape this loneliness. The light may be gentle, but this art holds me here, prisoner. Help me, friend.
from "The Woman in an Imaginary Painting" If she were a verb she would be the passive voice. If she were a bird she would be newly hatched, naked. If she were a song she would be a half-remembered chorus. If she were a girl she would be this one, quiet as confession.
from "The Woman in an Imaginary Painting" There is the moment it stops: the light streaming in the window, the flutter of dust in the air, the blush at her throat. She sits poised as a still life, a woman on the edge of hope, as if she could hold her breath forever.
©2021 Tom Montag
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