The bug in the berry was
surprisingly deliciously
salty.
© Chagall 2016
Archive for October, 2016
Like air
it’s everywhere
you breathe
Morning is life
as much as light
polishes
Now seems
to work best
at times
But i don’t know what
i don’t know – is it only
martini? (i could – as you suggest –
rhyme that with blini)
A kiss for any monday
appears on your lips
till our lips meet yet again tomorrow
How pregnant
the pause and i am
postpartum
Now indeed seems
to work best
all the time
© Chagall, 2016
Sweet potato by Melissa drying
together in one heap.
I make a one-cup dough everyday,
roll it or fill it.
We’ve seawater still on our fingertips,
a crust of hot crystal salt.
I’m different – you said,
through the open window – I’m the one looking up.
You were late. I watched you gather lilac and lace
by the unlatched gate.
Your breathing stills matter about the fire,
all being is cured aromatic.
And so able to last
forever.
© Chagall 2016
Alphabet City 