I don’t believe in the oven light
Things should bake in the dark
© Chagall 2014
When I was small you took my hand, led me to distant places
around the corner and up the block
You carried me so I grew to know
the spiral of your ear and the curls about it
Your smelled of taffy, salt, and wind,
as a newborn I’d mistake that for the contour of your cheek
Senses ran together then
before words but after sound
Essentially
once upon a time
© Chagall 2014