Tipton Poetry Journal – Fall 2018
A Wife for Cezanne David Craig Her name must be Aime. She will know Montana’s plains, ride horses bareback, a yellow rose in her teeth. She’ll be quiet as the morning, except on high feast days. I don’t know about you, but things never go my way. My teeth could all be fixed, and still the bird of not-here would come and perch on my left shoulder. What do you say when people seem to dis-allow you? What do you do when silence, like a friend, smiles back? (You can grunt in peace as you work toward the heart of things!) Cezanne knew his paints, nothing else would come. Mont Sainte-Victoire could’ve been the cleaning woman. France could have danced a block over, in a different color. The present wore him until he learned to move in its sleeves. Answers, questions, they went the way of evenings. A crust of bread and then some wine. He and his wife seldom had to speak. They were part of the voice of the time, the art that had to come. Cezanne was happy all through his life with that.
David Craig is the author of 24 books, 21 or which are poetry. He has published 300+ poems in journals and anthologies. David lives in West Virginia and has been at Franciscan University of Steubenville, teaching for 30 years.
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