Part I

The day so hot, I dove into a painting—
the first water scene I saw— a stormy sea
painted with Prussian blues, teals rolling
round, with turquoise tips, and the sky,
an Aegean blue mottled with dark clouds.
Two fisherman aboard a sailboat
of time-darkened white sails, holding tight
to lines, hoisted me aboard. Up close, I noticed
their hip boots and dark grey oilskins, and beneath,
navy woolen sweaters, all of a time long past.

I recognized the older man—  the painter,
Russell Bauer, who once loved my grandmother.
Not startled by my presence, he growled,
How’s your dear Oma? Though rain and wind
whipped his face, I could see his tears.
He didn’t seem to mind, scowled and said,
Yes, lost love is forever my tempest. He took my hand—
begged me to leave, to take a message to her.

I found myself on the floor below the frame,
a coil of seaweed entangled in my toes. Echoes of
I still love rang all day in this tiny half bath.

An ekphrastic, from Sails on Stormy Seas by Russell Bauer.
1965. Acrylic on canvas. 18 x 24.