No words for the colors my body burns
Neither primary, pastel, nor flying
Instead a conflagration, deep amber
Dark roux near burn, my soul charred flour

Equal parts air, love, and salty water
Stirred to thicken and left to cool a spell

Upon fine filament I ride to you
More than passing a glance our eyes absorb
What’s essential behind, unspoken
In search of clarion call

A prayer for forgiveness prior any act
Repentance in arrears

Chagall 2019

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