Stain in Creases

"The whole answer is there on the canvas."
—Edward Hopper

In solitude
A walk

Through the
Gallery, a history

Walker and Weems see
Too much

Interned wings,
Loud, counter migration

To which I then need,
Prefer, the art of echo

That may be realism (?)
A cozy invisibility —

                Picture me bussing
                In “Chop Suey”

                Would I have been
                In the kitchen, at Phillies?

                In the pantry storing
                Watching, growing

                The darker brother…
                I, too, am America

                Ars Americana
                An etching of desolation 

                I can never put into
                A proper word

                And I don’t know
                But need to think how

                He’d see straight through
                Me, if we ever didn’t meet