Tag Archive: death


For Marilyn

I am from the sun, unable to find my way
back home in the dark.

© Chagall ∞

Druthers

If my fate is to die by falling, let it be
Down weathered steps over the dunes to the beach

© Chagall ∞

For St. Thomas

Death is not absolute for those who stand above, outside
where spirit begets body – the wonder, not where body begets spirit,
for that would be a wonder of wonders.

© Chagall ∞

Brokenhearted

I dropped my son and his girl off
at JFK Airport last night for their
after-midnight flight to London. They
were so excited. I am so deeply saddened
that the world is as it is and I regret
that we are not all loving people.

© Chagall ∞

Leaving Marbles Behind

If death be not a parenthesis,
must life then be an ellipsis?

© Chagall ∞

Those Woods

The little horse has passed, still her harness bells summon
snowfalls shared, quiet leas, and the long dark nights of winter.

©  Chagall 2017

For Chloe – ci vediamo

She loved Frost but was less equivocal about the end,
choosing water over fire and ice.

© Chagall 2017

How Old Are You Now?

The balloon from her last birthday
I’d left to bob on the ceiling,
over the years had withered and died,
and now resembles a pink snail on
a white-ribbon leash, there
in the corner behind the bookcase.

© Chagall 2017

The Lottery

Another year and the war would end
but on the day my friend Johnny died
the triangle of his flag hung looking 
over the city from his mom’s window.

The summer we were ten he stands in a sprinkler,
in his boxers (not really a swimsuit) with
the biggest grin because it’s vacation and
life is good and the ice man is coming and
we’ve got a dollar to share.

© Chagall 2106

Fire Escapes Covered in Snow

Christmas Morning on the Lower East Side when I was five
I awoke to find a tiny white baby grand piano alongside
the tree that crowded the front room of our railroad apartment.
Not quite a toy, it was a real instrument crafted to stand
not two feet high. On the beautiful bench sat a card in script
that simply said Love Dad.

This year, for what would be his 100th Christmas, I will place
my hands on the keyboard again to wish him peace in silent night.

© Chagall 2016

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