chagall backdrop

So much to do,
to get to you.

Think, write,
speak, then wait
for you.

Air carries
me, my sound
to your drum.

Ticklish cilia
let you
hear me.

Pheromones moan,
how silly, mon petite amie.

I’m upside-down,
there in your head;
eyes right me up!

Kisses happen
the moment before
you realize.

But my heart
persists on a tight-wire,
your same pulse.

Beating quantum
at the synapse,
the heat we share.

Your name
is your aroma,
the things I know you by.

The feel of an eyelash,
open, close,
on a cheek.

A tear’s last moment,
at the jaw line,
just before the drop.

Never felt
so weightless
before.

Or
ever
since
after.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013