runoff from the high ground breaks through
from under the ice-crusted snow, flows
such a deep blue that its black,
like the line of a broad felt marker

Salt left behind by a tear
cooled in the wind,
dried on your cheek

you ask me if I will stay mad all day,
I ponder if I am simply supposed
to support all you purport to be
despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary

in response I ask
how can I be sure

I turn to watch the bolt of
life from the underbrush
startled by your footfall

you oversimplify the world, I say,
there’s a lot of gray between here and now

while you overcomplicate it, she says,
…I’m right here

you ask me if I intend to remain mad all day,
I ponder if I am simply supposed
to ignore, forgive, forget,
despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary

I turn to watch the bolt of
life from the underbrush
startled by our footsteps

you overestimate your claim the world, I say,
there’s a lot of gray between now and then

while you overcomplicate it, she says,
can’t you see, I’m right here

Chagall 2019

Advertisements