Jeremy De La Rosa
The Walls Confess
after Edward Hopper’s painting
Room In New York
They sit in the front parlor each afternoon,
below carefully curated art–
realistic pieces, industrial scenes–things she
hates but will never tell him.
She plays his favorite tunes on the piano, hoping
he will straighten his back, and look up–
he has no mind for posture in his own home,
hunched over his paper, relaxed.
Sometimes, she watches the maids work,
envying them, how they hum softly, then leave.