LOVE Poem: The Painter, by Ethan Zimmerman

She loved Chagall, she said, especially L’Écuyère. It made her feel like a child at a circus. When it was my turn to paint her, I chose gouache on cellulose. It made me feel like a child again at a fair. She named her seven-toed cat Marc because Chagall had seven fingers on one hand. After she died, I could never convince the cat to love me. He painted me invisible. So I got a dog. Just to be seen once more. I named the dog Chagall, a name he never came to. So I gave him away.

Author: poetryfest

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