The red horse nods its panache
rolls its woman's eye.
The rider's acrobatic
stance defies the grave
laws of balance. Gaudy slipper hooked
over the left shoulder. One legged flamingo.
Right arm forming a classic gesture
of ballet. The horse rocks on
as the full moon dangles
from a laurel branch
like the hazardous white fruit
that can only be plucked by the angel
flying with moth wings
glued to a mortal body.
The circus is the sensual
ring in which love enacts
its risks, a production
of gasps, thrills.
The angel's arms open wide.
It has fallen in love with a painted horse
with the seduction of clowns.
O, it has fallen
like moonlight onto the earth
its wings burning off
its body becoming
three rings of joy.
<i>Chagall Poems</i>
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