The Jetty at Cassis, Opus 198, 1889, by Barbara Crooker

The Jetty at Cassis, by Paul Signac (France). 1889.

The Jetty at Cassis, Opus 198, 1889
                        
Signac and Seurat made up Divisionism:
not mixing paints on a palette, but dotting
pure pigments in a flurry of tiny specks,
letting the colors blend in the eye.
So here is the port of Cassis, where
we hiked the Calenques and had dinner
one night, even though our luggage
took a different trip. Ça n’importe pas.
But in this Cassis on the canvas, a blizzard
of color has fallen in the night, dense
flakes of orange, blue, and white
accumulating on the shore, a squall
of ultramarine, jade, and emerald
flecking the sea.  Everywhere,
hundreds of little brush strokes,
birdseed thrown at the sky. 
And you and I, in that small hotel,
no pajamas, toothbrushes, change 
of clothes.  Nothing to wear
to bed that night but ourselves.  
And so you painted kisses 
all over my breasts, while
I blended colors up and down 
your thighs.  Together, we connected
the dots.  There were no divisions, 
no divisionism, only our bodies, 
flying out of our skins.

Barbara Crooker

This poem is from the author's book, Les Fauves, C&R Press, 2017.

Barbara Crooker is a poetry editor for Italian-Americana, and has published eight full collections and twelve chapbooks.  Her latest book is Les Fauves (C&R Press, 2017).  She has won a number of awards, including the WB Yeats Society of New York Award, the Thomas Merton Poetry of the Sacred Award, and three Pennsylvania Council on the Arts Creative Writing Fellowships.  A VCCA fellow, she has published widely in such journals as Nimrod, Poet Lore, Rattle, The Green Mountains Review, The Denver Quarterly, and The Beloit Poetry Journal. website:  www.barbaracrooker.com