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Tipton Poetry Journal

Cézanne Poaching Eggs Brian Robert Flynn The water comes to a simmer. A glimmer of white vinegar scents the scene. The egg slips nearer to its uncertain end, diverted from its biological cock a doodle doings. Cézanne eyes the swirling vortex. He will strain to make things perfect. It’s gone on like this for years, the hunger to be exact. The vinegar’s swirl keeps its pact, a balled up little yellow yolk. Back in his studio, cup of tea in hand, he sprinkles pepper on

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Profile for Tipton Poetry Journal

Tipton Poetry Journal #29  

Winter 2016

Tipton Poetry Journal #29  

Winter 2016

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