Andrés Wilson, also known as Amitai, is a native of New England and citizen of the world currently residing in New York City. The son of two musicians, he was named after the famed classical guitarist, Andrés Segovia. Andrés makes his living as a musician, writer, teacher, and translator. His poetry has appeared in Ophelia Street, Ghoti Magazine, Danse Macabre, Poetry Magazine, and many other publications. Andrés loves all things oceanic and/or French, espresso, Judaism, Surrealism, New England, and the guitar. www.andreswilson.com

The Old Man and the Seine

Tipping his fedora by the Seine,

He tries to mend savoir-faire’s

Eternal strut,

Right-hand outstretched

In scrumptious rut.  

To warm their slippery

Rite, he might

Have achieved any number of motions,

Summoned with a flicker of the wrist,

Or a commanding twist

And turn,

Like a

matador.

But his wave is elegant and oh so slow.

It rises like the sleepy sun,

Tense, writhing free from

Skyline scars,

Immortality,

Nearly forgotten,

Until seen again

In the minor swirls

of pizzicato.

Then she awakens,

Before she remembers,

Waxing the wild,

To glisten,

Relentless,

And he is erect but composed,

unwavering,

Dashing,

more white than gray

Yesterday’s lover—

A ghostly chevalier

Who wields woman 

into cylinders and

pyramidal knees, 

butterflying legs

until the

motionless

clutches of explosion.