chagall backdrop

She tells herself to let go – soar –
and so she does
and soar she does
but only for just a short while

She often walks on coals
then her soles burn hot
then her soul burns hot
she is lost in her gaze, fixed on her spot right there

Okay to breathe now. How your shoulders smell like rain
and apple dew.

We carve a single stretch, a shared arc – a yawn on the wall
our bodies run long supple lines intertwined pulsed at all the right points
just like DNA

in June on a picnic blanket overwhelmed by the possibilities on all fronts

She dances herself into tight glass
corners in high places, finds herself looking
down where lights light up way down there somewhere far below where it’s before
there was anyone other, besides, else, or at all

Before there was reason to bawl
Before there was reason to ball

© Chagall 2014