My Mother and Andy Warhol, by Robert Donohue

Campbell's Soup Cans, by Andy Warhol (USA) 1962

My Mother and Andy Warhol

She’s pointing out to me, so I’m aware,
There’s more to him than cans; for her, what makes
It art is in the thorough pains he takes
On soups now grown mysterious and rare.
They aren’t all the same; Scotch broth is there
Along with chicken noodle. A heart aches
For everything a change of taste forsakes,
But here they are, displayed with equal care.

In him she sees the terms of motherhood
And like a Green Stamp book he will create
The needs redeeming him will validate.
For Mom, what lies beyond is Hollywood:
However golden, Marilyn will fade,
But soup is soup, eternal, ready made.

Robert Donohue

Robert Donohue is a poet and playwright. His poetry has appeared in Better Than Starbucks, E-Verse Radio and Pendemic, to name a recent few. The Red Harlem Readers gave his verse play, In One Piece, (about Vincent Van Gogh) a staged reading in 2014. He lives and works on Long Island, NY.