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