After Corot
‘After Corot’ 1979-1982 by Howard Hodgkin
the train turning into the bay
enough to bring tears to your eyes
sleeping, your skin ivory
reach & fall of your breathing
your hand
in the painting everything is
at a distance: cliff, harbour,
sea, sky
tight within a frame
within a frame
only wait
and the light breaks white
on the horizon, mastheads etch
contours green beyond the wall’s bulk
and as a small boat painted red hoves into view
the land slips another foot into the sea
you throw up your arm
untrammelled
blue seeps under the edges of the frame
refusing to be bound
the rocking of the train
as it rounds the slow curve
your waking breath
the sea
This poem appeared in Bluer Than This (smith/doorstop, 1998) and, perhaps oddly [I imagine it didn’t tickle the editors’ fancy] failed to find a place in Out of Silence, last year’s New & Selected (smith/doorstop, 2014). Shame, really.
But Happy Birthday, Sir Howard, 6th August 2015! Great work, sir! 83 years young.
Some Days You Do ... 