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Wednesday, April 14, 2010

THE END by Kelly Wantuch ( Ekphrastic of George Segal's The Restaurant Window)

They no longer acknowledge  
The ruptured windows of matte
Patina reflections in  
Their cold burnt coffee re-warmed.
Yellowed Polaroids cascade out
Of dusty gathered albums stored.
Pigeons rustle and moan among
Dry bread crumbs thrown. A red balloon
Slips through the boy’s fingers drifting
Into the dark mist an unknown town.
They are just forced to wait longer.

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