Charles Wright(b. 1935)

Homage to Claude Lorraine

I had a picture by him—a print, I think—on my bedroom wall

In Verona in 1959,

via A n z a n i n. 3.2

Or m a y b e a drawing, a rigged s h i p in a h u g e sea,

S t o r m w a v e s like f l a m e s a b o v e my b e d .

It's lost b e t w e e n t h e r e a n d h e r e n o w ,

a n d h a s b e e n for years,

Trapped in t h e past's f o l i a g e , as so m u c h e l s e is

In spite of o u r c o n s t a n c y , or h o w

We rattle the branches and keep our lights on the right place.

T h e r o o m h a d a v a u l t e d c e i l i n g a n d f a c e d east.

T h e living r o o m w a s a t o w e r w i t h skylights on f o u r sides.

A third room sloped with the roof

until it was two feet high at the far wall,

All of this part of a reconstructed attic, and washed white.

I lived there for two years,

one block from the Adige3

Where seagulls, like little loaves of fresh bread,

Drifted and turned on its grey coils.

Between the sea fires of Claude Lorraine

and the curled sheets of the river,

I burned on my swivel stool

Night after night,

looking into the future, its charred edges

Holding my life like a frame

I'd hope to fit into one day, unsigned and rigged for the deeps.