I absolutely love this painting; spent hours looking at it as a child.  Your 
poem woos the reader into the painting.

 
A  thought:  How about starting with these lines:
...people wait

for something, someone,

and a pocket of light holds us

blind and helpless,

nighthawks circling.


I don't think fluorescent is quite right for a word considering the painting.

kol tuv, Ryfkah


In a message dated 08.14.03 8:10:41 AM, [log in to unmask] writes:

<< Nighthawks*




In darkness lit only by the glare

from seamless windows,

we are staring into a corner cafe

where two coffee urns reflect

fluorescent coldness

as hard as these faces—

one counter man, three customers--

each looking slantwise or down.

No one touches.

No one talks.

It could be any time,

any street, any place,

a planet circling some dying star.

It may be two a.m.; it may be New York.

We've all been there:

in that space

where people wait

for something, someone,

and a pocket of light holds us

blind and helpless,

nighthawks circling.


Sue Scalf




*based on Edward Hopper's painting of the same name

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