Chagall’s Goat
Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude,
but, with all due respect and regard
for your superior talent and intellect,
I’m the one asking the questions here.
Isn’t this picture full of mistakes?
Instead of munching earthly grass
rooted in everyday reality,
that goat roams among the stars,
tethered in the stippled blue of night
like a constellation –
Capricorn in girlish pink.
And what of that bridal pair afloat,
moored to nothing but each other
in their eternal vows? I’m sorry,
but their outlook lacks promise;
the air affords no proper home
or visible means of support.
I’m trying to be broadminded here,
but really, Marc, this simply won’t do.
Oh.
You don’t say.
You paint
proverbs, folk tales, dreams,
and a child’s memories before
his sinister hemisphere became
mired in the drudgery of scraping
what other people call a living.
You’re inviting me to engage
my own imagination. Now I see.