chagall backdrop

Instead of all
the wizardry and gadgets,
I take a plain old printed copy
of you and scribble in the white space.

Vertical usually, but horizontal too –
in different colors and boldness of stroke.

Sometimes I have trouble reading
what I wrote in the first place,
unlike lost things, which are always in
the last place.

I will leave no spot unattended,
everywhere spirals shall trace rainbow inks
absorbed in durable ivory-toned bond,
more cotton than paper, in indelible pen.

The story shan’t be a mad one about two birds angling,
nor aerial peril, in shallow dawn light, in rarefied air,
more song still than thrust, atop eddies on pockets of twice-risen heat.

You know you’d
welcome marginalia.

© Chagall 2014

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