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At the Museum of Modern Art

They say the modern condition is one

of isolation, and if I’m anything,

I’m modern. That must be why missing

you feels so inauthentic. Even in

the pastel glow of a Diebenkorn,

I can’t forget that I belong alone.

Unlike the homeless couple, curled

together under a yellow blanket

in the doorway of the Chinese bakery

each night, I hate the intimacy we share.

But if I can imagine these solitary

pictures removed from their frames

and pressed together in a kind of awkward

kiss, and if the photograph of a woman

naked on a park bench were to reveal

the figure perched beside her, a hand

resting on her breast just above

that scuttling heart, then I can say this:

Come home. Help me find a way.

from The Keys to the JailFind it in the library

Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2014
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.

Published in Keetje Kuipers Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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