Pictures of Helen To Helen I was honey, sweetheart, darling, Punkin’ Noodle, Powerful Katrinka, the Hiccup Queen of Ardsley She was mom to me Five foot two, eyes of blue Rounded, in a comfortable way Blunt cut, wispy, salt & pepper Dutch boy She scoured the sports pages, devoured the news Inked the Times crossword and acrostic Nudged numbers and letters into budgets and ledgers Beamed pride into her filing systems Diligently dusted the household Chambers of beiges and browns Boasted she drove like a cab driver Hummed as she cooked, Warbled “No more money in the bank…” In a tune she couldn’t carry Laughed with embarrassment Walked a mile every night after supper With her other honey Although she entertained to perfection Dazzling friends with dessert Pineapple Delight whirled with whipped cream Hot apple tart dolloped with hard sauce, melting She’d be relegated to the background, mystified And lost in the background, she'd rave superlatives About her nights at the opera, ballet, symphony, theater — marvelous! Quote essays she’d read in The Progressive, The Nation Act out her passions — fair housing, consumer rights, Food banks, vigils, marches Cycle through her favorite stories and Favorite quotes, sing the praises of Dr. Callan and The New School for Social Research, Her wonderful first boss, Mr. Wright, New York artist, John Sennhauser From her mid-twenties, for ten years She took the trolley to Sennhauser's studio And with a palette dark and thick and bold Painted people into being seen Decades later, proud and unsure, She would show me the canvases, say “They’re pretty good, don’t you think?” Today we give these pictures one more life Foreground her light Yes, Helen. Yes.
— by Lisa Sarasohn, based on conversations with
and notes by Judith Glixon