To the painter René Lemay | 2012 | Francine Allard

L’âme inconsciente du pétoncle, Au peintre René Lemay, pp 42 et 43, éditions Art Le Sabord 2012)

To the painter René Lemay | 2012 | Francine Allard
L’âme inconsciente du pétoncle, To the painter René Lemay, pp. 42 and 43, Art Le Sabord editions, 2012

In 1990, I wrote IN FRONT OF A LEMAY PAINTING, a poem to celebrate the artist’s talent. The text still appears in his curriculum vitae. I sang for him at Café de la Grave at a time when one could be accompanied on piano there. His eyelashes were wet, I remember. I also wrote him a poem in my collection THE UNCONSCIOUS SOUL OF THE SCALLOP, a text titled IN THE ISLANDS, THE WEATHER IS NOT ALWAYS FAIR IF YOU TRY TO MEASURE THE HORIZON. Here it is.

They have the shape of a hook and sink into a sea of green ink
The fishermen raise the curtain on the white stage
No poachers since one could see them all around
Coastal fishing deep trawling inshore fishing
Standing in the trawler he thinks of his fishing skin, of his moist eyes
He thinks of the warmth of the duvet and the scent of Marseille soap
Fixing the horizon heavy with grey wadding and the blinding line of daybreak
The fisherman measures the future of his swelling bones of his chafing hands
The sea carries his livelihood on its back and in its depths
And death so close when the storm lifts the trawler shakes it and strikes it
And perhaps overturns it
The nets tangle like his lover’s hair
Fray like her black braids and break
And the cod fisherman weeps for his too long nights of jigging
That release the traps the lines the longlines
The fisherman knows all this
And sets out again putting on his waders and his boots
Grabs his landing net and his oilskin jumps onto the deck
(Grabs his spatulas and his brushes and his tubes of sun)

and says goodbye to the land

Text: Francine Allard