Ekphrastic Poems by Ann E. Michael
after O’Keeffe, Yoshitoshi, and Hokusai
She Crosses the River as a Snake in Passionate Pursuit of a Celibate Monk after Yoshitoshi You were not only beautiful but gentle unlike other men, who reached for me with hands like spiders to wrap me in silk to use my obi as a gag– for those men I sharpened my teeth into fangs, but for you I would arrange camellias and bamboo attend to the shrines sweep each floor with my hair undone. You understood that the serpent, as a being, is no more inherently evil than moth or mockingbird. I’ll restrain my lust–nothing more than a pain in the belly– but let me follow you who neither feared me nor wanted me, which is beauty enough.
Horse-Washing Falls after Hokusai* In Hokusai’s print, men grasp the halters firmly, guide the skittish creatures into stream’s onslaught. Wide- eyed, the horses balk and no one blames them. Roaring, cataract’s thunder pounds in sensitive ears, boring through blood to large hearts that shudder with conflict under the chilly falls— to rear and run or stand: submit? The muscular ostlers, clad in loincloths—drenched to the bone themselves— though calm, have clenched lead ropes and manes. Duty-bound, they wash their samurai’s mounts. At the cliff base, they slosh among rocks and dung— like their charges balancing physical strength with another kind of power: the master’s bidding.
Blue #3, (1916) after Georgia O’Keeffe Headstones lean in cold moonlight. Swath of distant hills. Dolphin’s leap. Jay’s wings in motion. Dragonflies? Question marks? Steam engine streaking westward— or Southwest, where sky flaunts turquoise over every earthly being, every acre of sand.
About the poet:
Ann E. Michael lives in eastern Pennsylvania. Her latest poetry collection is Abundance/Diminishment. Her books include The Red Queen Hypothesis, Water-Rites, and six chapbooks. She chronicles her writing, reading, and garden on a long-running blog at www.annemichael.blog