chagall backdrop

Corners, sides, are easy to find,
they’re machine cut to bound the frame,
a space for vision and hearing,
to romp, to roam: proscenium.

I touch with all that I have now,
electric expanses of skin,
orient me to creation,
this is my time, this is my place.

Moments, knurled, from a jigsaw cut,
demand attention to pattern,
peculiar shades at their borders,
whisper to hint, here’s how we fit.

And so, a single piece missing,
I choose not to search for it yet.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013