Fiction   Essays   Poetry  The Ten On Baseball Chapbooks In Memory

Susan M. Williams


Somewhere, a painting looks back at you
with a blank expression. Did you hear that?
It whispers, peering around the room.
Leonardo da Vinciís face appears in a cartoon
cloud beside the canvas. His Italian lips form
the word sensazione and the sound of syllables
noodle around the fork of your brain, still trying
to make sense of a talking painting. The sleuth. You
step back, taking it in, while it studies your lines,
your hues, its guess for whatís beyond the edge
and then someone else creeps into the frame,
reaching for da Vinci, reeking of oxygen.

©2008 by Susan M. Williams

Susan M. Williams' poetry has appeared in Slow Trains twice before. She's honored to experience art with others through her volunteer docent work at the Frist Center for the Visual Arts in Nashville, Tennessee.

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