Today’s prompt: Write an ekphrastic poem, a description of, or reaction to, a piece of art. This dovetails perfectly with Margo Roby’s Tuesday prompt, in which she posted a painting from this tumblr site: http://indgoblue.tumblr.com/post/103455566832 and asked us to respond to it.

Looking down on the parking lot
from my balcony, I see
the body of a girl, lying
prone, arms outstretched, white shirt
stark against the pavement.

Only later do I see
the feathers, questioning
my sanity at first,
looking again from another
angle and then a third.

Eventually, I spot him,
just staring – I think,
“Why doesn’t he help her?”
At last, I see that he
is the artist.

And she, wings and all,
his creation. What happens
when she stirs? When she
leaves, as I know she must?
What of the art remains?