chagall backdrop

The rain brings scents so wash-away
They defy time, carry to and fro
Small doses of memory, others and ours

I inhale drops sharply, penetrate high and deep
To a point over my head from where
I triangulate my whereabouts, abandon my wits

Rabid in the downpour
Baptized a pseudonym handpicked to avoid
Final reckon, I despise the gavel’s sound
On my inner ear, fine cilia at risk
Befallen to the sound shock of the block
The inevitable shouts, nothing I know can stop that flow

A cloud rappeler, I dangle my solitude
A soliloquy, a carbon piñata too often tethered than not
Wound taut on thin wire, release me

Let me spin

© Chagall 2014