chagall backdrop

Her soaps were simple
incense and olive

I keep those she’s left behind
Carved small shavings from each

Stranded curls
Melt in water

I coax her out from the shore
To here

Deep enough
Just barely really on all counts

So many droplets
Swing from her exits
With so much grace
Her wet footsteps
Along the walk

Maybe one’s not
Yet misted away

© Carlos Chagall, 2013