
Twilight doesn’t swirl
move in tandem
or whisper as it did
when the time
between evening to dusking
stretched longer than today
rosetted sunsets barely touched
the eye and the hue
of nighttime garments
delicate, fringed
Corselettes massage
the brace of it
forcing the soul upright
to attentive pose
lean bodies
sinewy, still young
cheeks blushed with the skies pinks
reflecting new-day promise
and everywhere a freckle
now nowhere a dimple
or a wink
to conjure
the crazy thoughts
or to stir the violet echoes
© Chagall, 2013
