Children of Artists 
 

The museum had been masked for months
and without the love of eyes
many of the paintings had become restless
 
On the day before the shuttering
Alice boldly placed Chagall and Modigliani
side by side
 
As the newly appointed curator
she had been warned
about these two
 
but she preferred to use warnings as invitations
 
She’d claim
her decision was made in the interest of academic study
but in truth
 
she was a natural match-maker
and this was a simple gesture of honesty

 
Of course
the two always paid the price for the first night
 
especially Chagall
 
He watched Modigliani stretch
then slip from the canvas
and let herself down
lightly brushing the wall
as if she were still wet
and her paint still pliable
 
The well hung Chagall
had fond-pondered
her perfect disproportions
and once again found himself afloat
above the gallery
 
They romanced their way to the far wall
then blended themselves into the yellow ochre oil
 
where they would story and flirt
 
reliving their own creation
 
what it was like to be children of artists
drinking with the green fairies
 
the spirits of passion
the ghosts of neglect 

 
Alice would find them this way the next morning
 
embraced at their favorite table
asleep in a glow
of wormwood slumber
at Cafe VanGogh