Glass Poetry Press

Volume One Issue Two

Benjamin Russell

Picasso's Loaves, 1952 (a photograph by Robert Doisneau)

Pablo sits with his giant elephantine fingers on the table: Loaves of bread, croissant fingers where his hands should be. Pablo is hunched over the table set for two with silver plates, glasses, salt, a bottle of wine. He leans in as if to tell secrets. The fork is turned upside down, it must not hear what is being said. Its tines begin to tingle. But Pablo does not speak. Someone is listening in. The light shines on his bald head. He glances toward the brightness. Is there something in the window? Something is upsetting him. A painting? A Woman? History suggests either. Perhaps he feels the world moving below his feet, something evil or marvelous being birthed into the world.