EXILE
despite the impact of Cézanne
upon the poet
Rilke considered himself
“exiled to the Seine”
I am exiled here
under a Caligula governor
to whom ‘my’ nature is enemy
while the new Hitler secures
nomination by the former
Grand Old Party
as every World War II book
recounts the rise of fascism
all too recognizable
on every side
in what used to be
our country
exile ME to the Seine!
I’ll start at that point of rockiness
where old fishermen gather new fish
beneath the venerable willows
— silence of shadiness
broken only by riverine ripples
nearby dark barges
— sleek and gleaming —
–quaint names glowing
at their prows–
evoke other lifetimes
hint of vagabondage
brigandry, while
geraniums and laundry
ripple brightly at their sterns
let me become habitué
of the Seine’s Left Bank
savoring anew the courtly lunch
at that dark and storied restaurant
upon the Quai Voltaire
followed by long studious strolls
among des bouquinistes
whether or not I buy
I’ll stroke venerable bindings
thinking in almost-French
“Allons-y, à la Ste. Chapelle”…
“et, après ca, le pèlerinage”
to the grim fortress where
Marie Antoinette
whiled last hours
playing chess
awash in sombreness
I’ll seek “une glace”
at ice cream’s mecca
upon Isle St. Louis
— seeming a venerable boat
at anchor
upon the dimpling Seine
wrinkling and whispering,
the river will announce
“Caroline, bienvenue.”
CAROLYN FOOTE EDELMANN
in mourning with France
for the tragedy of Nice
in the summer of 2016
