The Day After, 1894

     — after the painting by Edvard Munch (1863—1944)

Empty wine bottles and one glass litter the bedstead. Last night there was no one, so now she's sprawled clothed on her bed. No arm around the waist. No one to tell her you look lovely, and isn't the plump moon stunning, held in black surety of night? No one to direct her up the stoop and quietly down the hall. No one to unlock the apartment door, guide her inside, and say sit down, remove your shoes. No one to mind her, unbalanced, step out of her dress and place the nightshirt on. No one to squeeze paste onto the toothbrush and say ok, now go to the sink. And after she does,there's no one to help her under the eiderdown. No one to find a glass, catch water, help her take a sip, and place the glass on the bedstead for later. No one to click off the lamp, secure her door, proceed through the foyer, and walk out into the night unworried.



The Wounded Poacher, 1881

        —after the painting by Henry Jones Thaddeus 1859—1929


The cotter was paring parsnips when he banged at her
door. The vegetables fell off her lap as she stood to
answer. There slumped a young man with a rifle and two
rabbits. His white shirt absorbing red. He stumbled in, sat
down, and exposed the wound without bothering to yank
the shirt tails from his wool trousers.

She leaned over him, dabbing a wet cloth on his pectorals.
He fell into her, resting his head on her breast. His hat
laid brim-side up on the clay floor next to an overturned
chair. A small table with a bowl of water and bottle of alcohol.
Underneath the table, a basket of parsnips.

At times, tripping on my shoe laces or over a misplaced root, I
pray for someone to be home, there warming by the
hearth and gently humming. To rest my agony upon a chest,
there on the rampart where I crawl on my belly. How
often I am the one rescued: insidious wounds, uncertainty at
the door, the bereft pistol, and dead rabbits at my feet.

Ekleksographia:
Wave Two

November, 2009

Poems

Janée J. Baugher

Janée J. Baugher teaches Poetry at Interlochen Center for the Arts each summer. Her two poetry manuscript, "Coordinates of Yes" and "The Body's Physics" have been short—listed at Carnegie Mellon Press, Tupelo Press, Saturnalia Books, and Black Lawrence Press. She has prose and poetry forthcoming in Boulevard, Mainstreet Rag, Ekphrasis, Spillway, and River Oak Review.