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, al of them
losers, all of them desperate for a second
chance. The 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 my mouth, sad eyes,
parted knees, open thighs, that famous shaft
of Hopper light a white flag, if only you could
Alexis Rhone Fancher is a poet and photographer. Her erotic poetry “How I Lost My Virginity To Michael Cohen & Other Heart Stab Poems” was published by Sybaritic Press in 2013. WHITE FLAG appears in the love and erotica book Day 4 by Green Panda Press, along with poems by Bree, Catfish McDaris and John Swain.