RIP Marianna Hofer

New Year’s

 

His hands she noticed first,

Then felt the pull of his beauty.

The more troubled

He was, the more interesting

The story. His open wound

Kept re-opening,

Like a special warehouse sale

In the downtown district, and

Nothing she could do

Made him forget the body, Her brother

Has not yet paid her

For her mother’s home. .Every minute

Of a relationship, she thought,

Takes something out of you

That won’t come back.

Here where the fallen are welcomed

By the fallen,

There ought to be some recompense

For the gifts she had given him.

Tonight, she has quite an audience.

Apparently investments

Have not panned out

And local administrators are going to have to fire

Somebody. The drunks

Egg each other on, cheer, blow whistles,

And hope that somebody will

Come up with enough cash

For another round.

Alert and on the job. she leans

Into the counter, and waits

For an order that will take her

Out of there.

[Disposable Poem 2001]

Dr. Mike

Sarah Sisser, executive director of the Hancock Historical Museum, and her daughter Caroline, 5, examine the artwork of the late Marianna Hofer, on display Friday night at the Jones Building Artist Studios during the Spring ArtWalk in downtown Findlay. ArtWalk showcases businesses, restaurants, artists, performers and musicians from the community. (Photo by Kevin Bean)

 

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