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