Francesca Woodman Speaks from MacDowell Colony, 1980 I used to reside indoors, materialize from the flaking wall, all the paint of lead, plaster in pieces, scattered. No fire in the fireplace. Shard of smudgy glass. Now: birches so thin, so tall. A stand of them, the one manifesting me. Not cut and used for heat but, rather, to reach with – my wrists sheathed in bark. A new kind of emergence. That one girl turning into a tree as form of escape, that tree with the untoothed leaf so unlike these and yet moving in the same direction – toward clear sky. ** This poem was inspired by Woodman's photograph, Untitled, MacDowell Colony, 1980. Click here to view it. ** Francesca Woodman Speaks from New York, 1980 I am trying on being the wire for the foxglove – that ladder of petal that recalls gowns not worn anymore. Hearty stemmed, this flower really doesn’t need me. But sun – morning in the garden boxed in by walls, of which I am familiar and a chance to. What jaundiced threat and the blurriness of the aura – that cloudy state I captured in other years and in other places – but no matter. For now, now, and this cup that fits over my finger outside of the frame. Kelly R. Samuels This poem was inspired by Untitled, New York. Click here and scroll to last photo with foxgloves to view. Kelly R. Samuels is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee. She is the author of Words Some of Us Rarely Use (Unsolicited Press) and Zeena / Zenobia Speaks (Finishing Line Press). Her poems have appeared in numerous journals, including Salt Hill, The Carolina Quarterly, Sweet Tree Review, Menacing Hedge, Heron Tree, and SWWIM. She lives in the upper Midwest. Find her here:www.krsamuels.com
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The Ekphrastic Review
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February 2025
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