← v21n3, Spring 2023Poetry · 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.
