chagall backdrop

At each turn
nothing but unearthed arrowheads
point the way.

It lurks –
simply put.

Does one not breathe?

Or maybe all too well,
finally.

I stare down,
I’ve seen these feet before.

Tiptoes,
usually
graceful
exits.

Sometimes I click,
flitter and sputter.

Just so long
that you saw
is enough.

© Chagall 2014