Rooftop Poetry Club - Sharon Cramer

Sharon Cramer

Bio:
Sharon F. Cramer is a Distinguished Service Professor in the Exceptional Education Department at Buffalo State College. She joined the department in 1985, and served as department chairperson from 1995-1999. From 1999-2004, she served as the Executive Director of the SABRE Project at Buffalo State, and facilitated discussions, analysis, and the transition to a new student information system. Her interests in leadership have led her to serve as an officer on state, regional, and national boards. At the national level, she recently served as president of the Northeastern Educational Research Association (2003-4). During 2007-8, she is Chair of the College Senate at Buffalo State College.

Dr. Cramer completed her Ph.D. at New York University in Human Relations and Social Policy, an applied social psychology program. She holds a Master of Arts in Teaching (M.A.T.) from Harvard University and a B.A. from Tufts University. She also completed a Management and Leadership in Education institute at Harvard University in 2001.

Poems:

The Helga Poems

Andrew Wyeth, best known for his landscapes and picture of his neighbor, Christina, in “Christina’s World” shocked the art world. In 1987, the Helga Show at the National Gallery in Washington, D.C. sparked many reconsiderations of Andrew Wyeth, such as this one.

“Between the age of fifty-three and sixty-eight, Wyeth underwent a mid-life crisis and produced hundreds of drawings and paintings, many of them nudes, that he kept hidden from his wife. This secret series of works portrayed Helga Testorf who was then taking care of Karl Keurner, may have expressed Wyeth’s need to exert his independence from his wife.”

The poems below are imaginary reflections by some of the individuals involved in the Helga paintings. At the poetry reading on April 8, the Helga poems and some of Wyeth’s paintings will be shared and discussed.

Mrs. Wythe's Dream Sugar and salt

Love on the tongue
a taste you don't forget
even if it has been so, so long
since you've tasted it
so sweet
it lingers
and makes you want to lick it
again and again

If you had to choose
between sugar
and the salt of life
which would it be?

It was so quick
Your mouth closed up to me
as if I was pouring
soy sauce down your throat
and turned to her sweet kisses
so sweet
she was your sherbet
orange
mango
raspberry
and you couldn't get enough

It was so quick
your teeth clenched
when we tried to kiss
experimenting to see if we could get our flavors back again

When, with jaw tight,
you turned away with a sigh
that was the sound
of the salt spilling to the ground
and getting ground into the dirt
of what was left of our marriage

Suspicion

Like a sickening smell in a locked-up house is everywhere the minute you open the door
"Open all the windows"
"Open the door"
"I can't stand this smell"
"What is it?"
Your doubts surround me

"Why were you out there so long?"
"What are you working on?"
"How are you doing on that portrait? You promised it for next month."
You are worried
that I have lost it
that I can't paint anymore
that I am sitting out there
that I am
thinking about what to do
and doing nothing

Nothing could be further from the truth
but I am unable to tell you
about Helga
today, she was asleep
in the sunlight
and the sun on her skin
I think I captured it
but I know that
nothing human ever could

I've never touched her – wanted to touch her
Just capture her
with clothes
without clothes
smiling
in that green coat
in the woods
in the house
for a moment
knowing she can never be captured
by me
or anyone else

Like the smell makes you want
to rush outside and gulp fresh air
your suspicions follow me everywhere
while I rinse my brushes
while I stretch my canvases
while I create my log of
what I painted
when
how long it took

Airing out the house takes time
Repairing your trust will take time
We are laughing and loving
but (just like the smell when you open a forgotten closet)
you are watching me

There's nothing to see
but you keep watching

I'll tell you about her
soon
I'm just not ready yet

Helga's Song

I dream
he is watching me
I dream
the green Loden coat goes up in flames
I dream
I am standing outside against a tree and I will never be warm again

I knew what I was doing
when we started
but 233 pictures later
all blurs into just this
he is watching me
I like it

Mrs. Wyeth speaks

Pursed lips
clenched hands
I am hardly here
except that they keep asking me
"Did you know?"
"Didn't you know?"

Of course we talked about it at the first
That Loden coat was mine
I got tired of green
I always looked ridiculous in it
it never wore out

and wearing it was like being inside an oven
It seemed a shame to give it to the Salvation Army
when we both knew Helga needed something warm

I saw you light up
for the first time in years
Those Helga pictures with the Loden coat were the old you again
I didn't know how much I'd missed you until I had you back
and the relief of being with you again pushed any doubts
far to the back of the closet

"Didn't you know?"
"Didn't you guess?"
You kept on showing me pictures
so I had no idea
there were any you didn't show me
ones you held to the side
because before there had been nothing we didn't examine together

Why didn't I guess?
It never entered my mind
Were you laughing at me, your wife with the socks at night
your wife with the stomach nothing at all like hers?

"Of course I knew – we agreed on the series together."
My voice is proud and firm
No one notices (least of all you)
that now my song is silence

Helga's Husband

In advance

He called to ask my permission
before he started painting her
What choice did I have?
Around here, he is a god
He was asking
like a king asks
for the hand of a maiden in marriage
an affirmative answer is presumed

After he started, I found myself looking at her more often
"What does he see?" I keep asking myself
"It's just Helga."
I saw her as I'd always seen her –
a little frumpy
hair so old-fashioned in a braid or two
What's there to see?

Waiting in line

I am at the National Gallery the day the Helga show opens
I wait in line
because I want to hear what people are saying
and of course they are all speculating about
Helga and Andrew
Andrew and his wife
No one even knows I exist
or my life, too, would be an envelope torn open
to be tossed as soon as
the contents of the envelope are extracted

I'm not even an envelope
but instead a silent listener
eyes hidden behind non-descript sunglasses
I start (I stay) invisible

When the doors open
I go through with all the rest
My eager anticipation
just like Lee Harvey Oswald's when the parade began that day in Dallas
Finally.
The day we've waited for
for so very long
is here

But the day dragged on forever
without a shot fired
though guns were on my mind
I positioned myself beside Daydream (1980) and listened
"Her skin – how did he capture that glow?"
"Do you think she was really asleep? Maybe she was just faking."
"I remember when my stomach looked like that."
"Do breasts ever really look like that?"
"She has some big ones."
"Isn't it time for lunch?"
"Do you think Mrs. Wythe really didn't know? She says she did, but I read that a neighbor said she didn't know about the nudes."

An important show

About the nudes
Both his wife and I found out after all 233 pictures were finished
and the important Wythe show at the National Gallery had been all arranged
The whole town was buzzing, like they
were in Dallas in October 1963
are when royalty is coming
would be if visitors from another planet announced they'd be stopping by

It had been years since his last show
and no one knew what to expect
The book cover, the poster for the show
were the same – a head shot of Helga
with her braids framing her face
as if she were a teenager
so we thought the show would be
a sweet rendition of her around town
a "Christina's world" with a fully functional woman
How little we knew

Rear Window

Just like Lee Harvey Oswald
I took myself to the movies when it was over
I was the last patron out of the National Gallery
But instead of wandering the streets or going to the party at San Souci
I went to a revival house
Rear Window was playing
I paid my money and went in, even though the movie had begun an hour earlier

Grace Kelly walked on air
turned and sat and stood
We all watched her, as she watched
Miss Lonely hearts
the yappy dog getting lowered in the basket
the suspicious neighbor

If James Stewart could be a voyeur, that made it legit
The window was the main character
giving us all permission to peep

Only because he had a broken leg in a cast
did James Stewart get
a house guest in a negligee
We all wondered
Would they do it?
How could they not do it?
The final credits were rolling as I wondered
After she finished reading her secret magazine
When he was asleep
(was he really asleep?)
would she stroke his
hair
shoulder
thigh
with her negligee?

Back home for two weeks

No one talked to me about it
Chit chat about
the weather
the economy
next season
Those who spoke at all, that is

Most hurried by me
eyes on a distant point far past me
I learned not to let it
bother me
I traded in my sun glasses for the reflecting kind in Cool Hand Luke
I stayed home more

I was a walking dead man
and I knew it

I never thought that
Jack Ruby did Lee Harvey Oswald a favor
until now
That look of surprise on the face of the marshal with the hat
the one standing right near Oswald
is the look I would see on Helga's face in the mirror
if I got taken out

The guns stayed on my mind
stayed longer than I stayed in the town

Afterwards

I bought a copy Daydream (1980)
and I look at it sometimes
I settled down in central Texas
No where really is home
I keep my thoughts and my hands to myself
and wonder when the Helga show will go on the road

I hear about them from time to time
They call her his "junk yard dog" and say she is with him all the time
She protects him from people
She's gotten fat
She never was much to look at