The Flying Carriage, by Judith Bowles

The Flying Carriage, by Marc Chagall (France, b. Belarus). 1913.

The Flying Carriage                    
     
When he couldn’t see Vitebsk from his doorstep
Chagall climbed a little post.  When he needed more
he did what his grandfather did to eat his carrots.  He climbed
up on the roof.  Home was a place to be owned
by wide watching .

There is a fire at the heart of the scene in his painting
coming from a tiny house
that spills its colour like a highway
for the eye to follow.  A man walks it toward the doorstep.
He rocks a white pail of water and maybe hears his wife

calling from the dark edge toward a palette of stones
that might carry her across to him.  They are staying
in the flaming frame but the carriage with the black horse
lifting is leaving.  The driver, dazzled to his task,
flings his arms into an arc.

A ladder leans against the roof of the house
which makes a place for sitting and watching
and showing what will happen.

​Judith Bowles

Judith Bowles lives, writes and gardens in Washington D. C.   She has an MFA from the American University where she taught creative writing .   Her poetry book, The Gatherer,  was published by WordTech Communication’s Turning Point in November of 2014.   Her second book, Unlocatable Source, will be published by the same company in July of 2019.  Two of her poems, “The Poet and the Pianist,” and “On First Reading Li Young Lee’s ‘Eating Together’”, were published by The Ekphrastic Review.  Her website is judithbowles.com.