Poetess Poem by Edwin Hopper

Hall black, she sits, clothes tight, bent double.
Tablet on lap smiling lyrical trouble

she stands. Breathes deep to calm her nerves,
struggles her jeans up over her curves.

A cat. she paces the stage to her place.
Tablet to her breast. Light anoints her face.

I wouldn't recognise, or try to meet,
seeing her ordinary on the street.

But here. This woman is not common clay.
I wait in awe, to learn, what she will say.