They whisper that I’m crazy
to paint the stars as pinwheels,
churning ocean of sky,
houses askew, listing at crazy angles,
but it’s my heart that’s tipped,
not my eyes, my brain. I’m in love:
Marguerite, la petite serveuse,
way she leans in, pours vin ordinaire,
breasts creamy, round as honeydew,
small smile when I stare,
upward glance through lashes,
flashes stockinged ankle as she strolls away.
She simply flirts, I know,
and what use has she for a one-eared painter.
Yet, I am drunk on love
and wine, pirouette this muddied street
as though it were Rue de Madeleine,
and every house and every tree whorls
and spins with me, stretches
toward the ever-whirling, ever-taunting stars.
Ann Howells’ poetry has appeared in Crannog (Ire), San Pedro River Review, and Spillway among others. She serves on the board of Dallas Poets Community, 501-c-3 non-profit, and has edited, Illya’s Honey, since 1999, recently going digital and taking a co-editor. Publications: Black Crow in Flight (Main Street Rag), Under a Lone Star (Village Books), Letters for My Daughter (Flutter) and Cattlemen and Cadillacs, anthology of DFW poets she edited (Dallas Poets Community).