My Warhol

Arthur Solway


circa 1963–1968

It’s your impassive gaze, the deadpan stare.
Where the word silence hangs above the door.
There in a silver room with its only chair.

Why bother arguing about the color of the air?
No one really cares. It’s perfect with this décor.
It’s your impassive gaze, the deadpan stare.

What couture should a condemned man wear?
“Nothing Special” is on the tube. Life’s such a bore,
There in a silver room with its only chair.

Tried for treason, but the evidence is spare.
It isn’t personal—just business and nothing more.
There in a silver room with its only chair.

And what is it about the style of your hair?
Like a celebrity suicide or disaster worth waiting for …
It’s your impassive gaze, the deadpan stare,

It’s the look that says no one’s really there
And like nothing else you’ve ever seen before.
It’s your impassive gaze, the deadpan stare,
There in a silver room with its only chair.


Arthur Solway’s poetry and essays have appeared in literary and cultural publications since 1978. Most recently his poems have appeared in TriQuarterly, The Antioch Review, BOMB, and Salmagundi with forthcoming work in The London Magazine. A graduate of the Warren Wilson MFA Program for Writers, he has been based in Shanghai since 2007.