Edward Hopper, Nighthawks

Dear George,

The task in our Poetry Writing Workshop this week was to write a poem about a famous work of art.  It didn't take me too long to settle on Nighthawks by Edward Hopper.  It's mysterious, open to multiple interpretations, and conducive to story-telling.  Hopper finished the painting in January 1942.  He was 59 at the time.  His wife Jo was the model for the woman, and Hopper, using a mirror, was the model for both men.  Hopper's long-time studio was on Washington Square in Greenwich Village, and he said that he used a diner on Greenwich Avenue where two streets merge as the inspiration for the picture.  Nobody’s been able to pinpoint the exact location.  Jo created the title for the painting (originally "Night Hawks"), and her notes suggest the name was connected to the beak-like nose of the man in the painting.  Hopper sold the painting to the Chicago Art Institute for $3,000, and it's still there today.  I guess it's now worth a few hundred million.  I can see why.  Here's the current version of my poem.

Love,

Dave

                     Nighthawks

The city streets were empty and dark

Twelve thirty on a Saturday night

Joe’s Diner was brightly lit but stark

A refuge for night hawks in flight

Three customers lingered at this late hour

A lone man and a middle-aged pair

The woman and man looked brittle and dour

Her scarlet red dress matched her hair

The couple had come from the late late show

They’d seen Joan Fontaine at the Strand

The woman’s tears had continued to flow

The man found it hard to withstand

The diner would prove the end of their date

But neither could find much to say

She picked at her food but she barely ate

They had waited so long for this day

The stranger watched the two from afar

His wife had died five years before

He knew what grief and loneliness are

Surviving each day was a chore

The counterman offered them cherry pie

He hoped that they’d leave, then he’d close

The man just shook his head with a sigh

The woman was immersed in her woes

They were married for thirteen up and down years

But now they’d been six months apart

Coming together renewed all their fears

They both knew they’d never restart

Joe’s Diner was a suitable place to end

It symbolized their loss and their plight

There might come a time when they could be a friend

But for now these hawks vanished in the night