Poem 454

I read this in a story about Christo’s artistic exploits – and surmised what his response might have been … the title loosely means the impact of art …

( I like the sun’s accustomed energies, the image of day using an axe to hoist itself over the hump of noon, surf slobbering on shoes, the rhyme of found/mound … and the word parboiled … )

Coup d’Art

Christo wrapped a cliff
in red plastic
the sun didn't ask if it was art
       just slapped down
       its accustomed energies
crowds stared mutely waves
ran up to the red plastic
and tasted it
                          as the day put an axe
       into noon and pulled itself over
there came irregularly
then very regularly
from inside the brilliant red cliff
       a    plunk   plunk
                                          plunk

it was a mystery
                                  Christo thoughtful
        hummed to himself
surf slobbered on his shoes

that night when Christo rolled up his plastic
          ready for the Pont Neuf
          or the Statue of Liberty
along the base of the cliff was found
a death mound of crabs
         two feet thick

Christo smiled
                               so that 
                               was all the plunking
          a gentle
parboiled rain of art critics