There was something about the town in this painting that really got up my nose. Not sure why. I wrote several poems about it for the Ekphrastic challenge. This is one of them.
In our town only the dead walk
or the defiant, skimming the shadows
of the empty streets after night falls.
In our town the house fronts frown,
and windows howl in outrage,
while streetlamps point the finger
at ghosts and outcasts robed in sin.
We robe ourselves in righteousness
and join the hallelujah chorus.
In our town the streets are safe,
without fear, for behind each window
framed in lace is a finger on a trigger.