Night Fishing at Antibes
Spiral of deformity, fractured
house of mirrors. To begin
in the disarray, you must trek
the whole edge of canvas.
Start in the backdrop. A chateau
blooms purple hydrangea,
each waxy petal a doorway
cracking open to shadowed gorge.
Now look for the light source: a chrome
yellow moon, starry moth, and two
kerosene lamps. The scene whimpers
in a nocturnal scale, oozes the occult.
But on the right, two bodies are
conceived. Both mistress and wife
overhang the cliff as precarious as
the bicycle balanced on one wheel.
And maybe he can ignore all this. Focus
only on the canoe, the French Riviera,
the spear. Forget his partner’s foot caught
in a line and track the barracuda below.
You’re in the center now. For a moment,
everything is clear, and your hand is suspended
over the spear. Clench and unclench.
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