I inhale till
the flame goes out.
© Chagall 2015
Tag Archive: moonlight
I inhale till
the flame goes out.
© Chagall 2015
Hey you chasing wisps tonight, so lucky the clouds hang low
in bitterwarm air so easy to fly when it’s like this.
You see me there, hover just over
the rooftop, below you I wave in wan moonlight.
I was once on a sea that was lit like this,
so many moons and just enough time to crest every one.
I love you, you know.
© Chagall 2015
I kneel in the field tonight
on cold dry grass
turned straw this late
near winter
The low winds blow by
oddly warm
sing more with a voice
than a whistle
With tales
of the woods surround
where fleet runners
tangle in bramble
detained
Wan moonlight anoints me
with a sword upon my shoulder
declares me a Lady
of magnificent beams
I am free to cross
because I am righteous
I am
a miracle of night
© Chagall 2013
I am secure in the dark tunnel
your hair frames about my face.
The nightroom is violet,
moonlight rouges your cheeks.
Gentian fills the air, we’re children, we whisper excitedly
into each others ear, ticklish, warm, and sensuous.
We move invisibly, pepper-silk sheets, timeless postures,
silhouettes against the open bay windows.
Night breeze blows cool streams across the bed,
refreshes me, each time I rise and fall.
I stare at the grace of the arc you cut,
at all of the napes where you crane.
My straddles throw you in shadow or allow you to be lit,
depending on where I am, between you and the light.
And when we perfect the flip, you’ll do the same for me:
twin souls dancing to the strains of a forgotten eclipse.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 