Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Studio

At the time when women were just learning
to breathe and whistle their animated tunes,
my friend Ann Bridges, in Northport,
rented space on top of Bentley's hardware store
with many windows, wafting summer's heat
or winter's cold, where three times a week
we converted brushstrokes into harmony
without polluting the room with words or directives
about colors that mix or make mud
while we tried to fit countless faces
inside the face of a nude who molded herself
to a chair in a haphazard pose, causing me
to look away, feeling guilty for snooping, and
for all the visions touching me inside.

          Prompt: art by women, women painters in history or now