Blue and Cyan

A feather carried by a current I was,

Hair unspooling like so because,

•

And Underneath it all the brush,

And us.

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Weightless, lifted, pinioned,

Strung and pulled, unbuttoned,

•

What we edge, have edged, and halved,

Is yet the steps we have not pathed.

•

And underneath it all the shadow,

the blood, the bone, the marrow:

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I will meet you on another day,

When the air is warmer, when the sky is gray.

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The river hides us, though we pass,

And underneath it all the mask.

[the poem takes its name from the accompanying beautiful painting by my friend Maria Dimanshtein]