Paris in Chagall by Neil Richards

in Poetry/Spotlight

Below his window the Seine is a prayer unscrolling.

The moon sleeps contentedly in Chagall’s belly

until dusk is a greening field.

Then Chagall plants himself into dusk.

He is the fruiting body of the moon,

and when the moon is fully grown

Chagall is the mirror where she makes up her face.

.

Neil Richards has been writing for five years. He has been published in Strix, I,S,& T and has a pamphlet with Frosted Fire Firsts. His latest work, a selection of found poems from the letters of Vincent Van Gogh, will be in the June edition of londongrip.co.uk

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