Kelly Cressio-Moeller
Year of the Drowned Dog
after Eric Fischl, aquatint and etching on paper, 1983
Summer-dry and hot, January’s coat already ancient.
Acqua tinta = dyed water; first recorded use in Italy, 1782.
Signac, Matisse, and Bonnard all sought the Riviera’s voluptuous light.
One short log floats upon jade waves – a closer look reveals bark is fur.
Frieze of figures: collaged, partially clothed, creating the drama. The sea doesn’t care.
Clouds break and make new shapes: aerial islands, continents adrift.
No trees, only the mountain’s dark shoulder as shade.
Three men in white uniforms face the Mediterranean, scapulas sharp as sails.
Year 68: rotten boat carrying a rooster, dog, and the body of Saint Tropez washes ashore;
his head tossed somewhere in the Arno.
A couple and their son drowned last year trying to rescue their dog. The dog survives.
Endless stretch of fine white sand – how many hourglasses broken?
Even the dead cast a shadow.
Not everyone wants to be saved.
Kelly Cressio-Moeller’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Crab Orchard Review, Poet Lore, Crab Creek Review, Rattle, Boxcar Poetry Review, and Gargoyle among others. She lives in Northern California with her husband, two sons, and their basset hound. She’s at work on her first book of poems.
Return to March 2014 Edition
after Eric Fischl, aquatint and etching on paper, 1983
Summer-dry and hot, January’s coat already ancient.
Acqua tinta = dyed water; first recorded use in Italy, 1782.
Signac, Matisse, and Bonnard all sought the Riviera’s voluptuous light.
One short log floats upon jade waves – a closer look reveals bark is fur.
Frieze of figures: collaged, partially clothed, creating the drama. The sea doesn’t care.
Clouds break and make new shapes: aerial islands, continents adrift.
No trees, only the mountain’s dark shoulder as shade.
Three men in white uniforms face the Mediterranean, scapulas sharp as sails.
Year 68: rotten boat carrying a rooster, dog, and the body of Saint Tropez washes ashore;
his head tossed somewhere in the Arno.
A couple and their son drowned last year trying to rescue their dog. The dog survives.
Endless stretch of fine white sand – how many hourglasses broken?
Even the dead cast a shadow.
Not everyone wants to be saved.
Kelly Cressio-Moeller’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Crab Orchard Review, Poet Lore, Crab Creek Review, Rattle, Boxcar Poetry Review, and Gargoyle among others. She lives in Northern California with her husband, two sons, and their basset hound. She’s at work on her first book of poems.
Return to March 2014 Edition