Three After Edward Hopper, by Jackie Langetieg

Room in New York, by Edward Hopper (USA) 1932

​Room in New York 
 
It is after supper and the man of the house
is catching up on the evening papers.
 
He is still concentrating on news of the war, 
which is never good and now General Patton 
 
has slapped an enlisted soldier
and that’s all the editor can write about. 
 
His wife is waiting to discuss their oldest child 
and picks a one-finger melody on the piano.
 
The boy has been caught smoking in the lavatory 
and should be disciplined by the father. Soon
 
she will grow tired of waiting, and will confront her husband 
with this news that to her is more immediate than war in Europe.

​House at Dusk, by Edward Hopper (USA) 1935

​House at Dusk
 
Four windows from the corner
I watch Jenifer practicing Yoga.
Standing and  moving slowly--
 
like holding the pose, now stepping
out into a fresh breeze and coming
back with a slow turn into warrior.
 
She sees me watching and waves,
putting her hand on the patch of lavender
covering her scar, her heart’s sewing lesson.
 
I bring my tea from the kitchen and sit watching
her exercise her still sore body. The two of us
went to rehab yesterday and for the first time
 
she stayed walking on the treadmill longer
than I could. I answer her by putting my hand
against the soft soothing robe covering my heart.

House by the Railroad, by Edward Hopper (USA) 1925

House by the Railroad
 
I.
 
She was over 100 years old when I lived there
three stories, tan rough brick facade, a dormer
on top where the attic rested like an old dog
 
There had to be a bathroom added and a kitchen
just an ice room at the beginning to keep perishables
Otherwise it was inhabited just like every other
 
on the block. The porch guarded the front door
and gave me a place to play when weather threatened
Gram could watch me from the tall narrow windows,
 
drapes pulled aside. The attic always frightened me--
my room was next to the door into the darkness. 
I was never to go into it alone to root around old boxes
 
with clothing and ornate hats from the 90s.
One was a dark blue mesh with a wide brim,
and sitting on the front was a light blue bird.
 
In spite of my mother telling me it wasn’t real
I somehow knew it was, somebody had killed it 
and put it on the hat. 
 
It was fixed by a wide black ribbon. I never saw
anyone wear it. Its small black eye seemed 
to watch me playing from across the room.
 
II.
 
Next to our porch door was the door where
the neighbours rented a small apartment. 
They were an old couple, quiet and well-known.
 
The man, Mr. Pease, was always trying to touch me 
and pick me up. Mrs. Pease would tell him to stop,
but the minute her back was turned he would 
 
smooth back my hair or get naked in front of
the bedroom door, or try and kiss me 
with his flabby lips when Mrs. was gone.
 
One night when he is asleep, I will take some
money hidden in the Mason Jar and flee
into a new life without him. I will find
 
someone, I think a girl or woman to help me 
find a way to escape his long tongue
boney fingers.
 ​
Jackie Langetieg

Jackie Langetieg has published poems in literary magazines: Verse Wisconsin, The Ekphrastic Review, Bramble Blue Heron Review. She’s won awards, such as WWA’s Jade Ring contest, Bards Chair, and Wisconsin Academy Poem of the Year. She is a regular contributor to the Wisconsin Poets’ Calendar. She has written five books of poems,  including Letter to My Daughter and a memoir, Filling the Cracks with Gold.

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