Two Poems on Francesca Woodman, by Kelly R. Samuels

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.

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This poem was inspired by Woodman's photograph, Untitled, MacDowell Colony, 1980. Click here to view it.

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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