he sketched her…soft grounded her dark
to pale from his pen…from his spider brain…
and I procured a numbered print of her
to hang spot lit in the downstairs hall…
his face turned slouching woman… awkward
back stretch angled on rectangles of chair
I recess lit her stark frameless to
a cream white wall…and for a month
or two we lived together…amiably
and then began disquiet for I
no longer studied her…no longer
lit or looked at her
I could not hum mutter whistle her
being present simple in my complexities
of wrinkled cotton islands on wood dusty
floors, my mismatched shoes upon the
stairs…my stale racked stacked emails
my listless voice-ed messages cued
faceless in my cell
she haunted me…and then epiphany…
I turned her almost upside down…
spilled her comfortable into the complex
easy of my life
Bonnie Marshall
Artwork by Richard Diebenkorn
Proem... 
Glorious: Bonnie, you are getting better and better, something that I did not feel was necessary or called for — this is a glorious poem.
Thank you so much, Ward. This is a very lazy weekend for me and I almost worded the last line, “into the easy lazy of my life” It would have worked, too. Smiles, dear friend.
ha! … inevitable solution
Thanks, Mark. It’s a lazy weekend poem.
Beautiful!
Glad you think that, Nancy. Smiles.
Bonnie, really thought this a nicely laid back poem that maintained an acute tension behind it. Wonderful ending. Smiles…>KB
Ah, well, it was a laid back weekend for the writing. So pleased you noticed the form of it. Smiles…
“spilled her comfortable into the complex
easy of my life”
This poem resolves with the hardest whip dash at the very end that I can imagine. Beautiful!
Your insight is so valuable…so meaningful to me, John. Thank you!