← v21n3, Spring 2023
Poetry · Volume 21, Number 3

Chagall’s ‘Song of Songs III’

By everyone, unheard by anyone because

This is, after all, only a village gathering

In a brushed Talmudic oil. They field around

Their favorite fauvist lick, gather in the silence

The sun a tambourine refracted in diamonds

On the floor of a pool where you spent

A summer’s heat one afternoon. The bride’s veil

Cups the ecclesiastic torch of her red hair,

A winged candelabra rises above the cornucopia

Of a jaundiced moon, upside down and fallen

In the lake below. Even now you hear their vows

Curve in a dark blue groom along her shore.