Shower: A Triolet
When did I stop singing in the shower?
Did something of mine run down the drain?
I soap myself just as I did before,
but, still, I’ve stopped singing in the shower.
Did my songs weaken slowly hour by hour
or burst like bubbles in all this soapy rain?
When did I stop? Singing in the shower,
I must have not seen what ran down the drain.
“E” is for Eakins
In 1886, Thomas Eakins was forced to resign from
the Pennsylvania Academy for introducing nude
male models into classes with female students.
Martin A. Berger
Like a modern hero, they put him on their caps—
the students, his followers—proud to display
a big black E. He was their man, for keeps.
How dare anyone fire him! Hadn’t he proven Europe
had met its match in their Academy?
So they put him, their martyr-hero, on their caps,
stitched him on and wore him, singly or in groups,
in protest, their paint-stained fists held high.
They called him “The Boss.” Tom was their man, for keeps.
Whoever would bury the body under wraps
feared him. He said the world was made for the eye.
It was like going naked, wearing those caps,
a prod to wake up citizens who sleep-
walk through their day. That flashed letter, E,
spelled a prophecy: “Now, the time is ripe!”
But, of course, it wasn’t. Honesty had to reap
its dose of punishment—doses, in Philadelphia!
Still, they put him, heroic, on their caps.
