EDWARD HOPPER UNDERSTOOD THE ROOMS OF THE LONELY BY ROCHELLE JEWEL SHAPIRO
In a bare room, lonely,
I stand naked in a lonely
patch of sun, thinking of you, lonely.
I sit and let my blue shadow stretch lonely
on the green carpet like grass
lonely for flowers. Lonely
like the bed, empty of you. Lonely
like not wanting to get dressed, or eat, that lonely.