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MONET Saint-Adresse

SAINT-ADRESSE a poem read by the poet NIGEL HUMPHREYS from his 2007 Collection THE HAWK'S MEWL Flags liberate despair from a garden terrace and slaps of petal hue trap slow motion where he sits beneath a jilted straw hat, warned by a grey beard, a cane divining between his legs. To his left he ignores a parasol and the other wicked empty chair, fixes on the conversation he cannot hear, a young couple confrontational across the island bed; he frisks their body language. Or does he look beyond at the tall ships and steamers on a Turk stone sea rubbed down to a marble finish reflecting a pace of thought he chokes on ? Standards crack discretely. A breeze chills the damp patch in his lap. The parasol is chortling now, turns her page. How many leaves still to turn ? And the couple opposite have ceased their mumming; their eyes query him through stocks and gladioli. She wears his grandchild -- a blunt immortality he sniffs at through his kerchief. Still life, he waits for another page to turn. He has grown dun but this day the sun lays hands on his Panama.