I am becoming more intrigued with form,
yesterday, jazzy verse just suit me fine.
I’m slow now, I take patience with the line,
take time to build, weather better the storm.
The word deluge that had become my norm,
drowned me, submersed my head in a sound brine,
lacked any meaning, for lack of trying.
My madness now will be more uniform.
I’ve never embraced you in silhouette,
though we once were both bathed in indigo.
Your every movement is a pirouette.
I cling to the rock face, cold vertigo,
like that time I felt on the parapet.
Now I’m ready to leap, if you say so.
© Carlos Chagall, 2013
Alphabet City 