Chagall’s Ecuyère

A sea of pink,

A sea of red,

A glowing blue

About my head.

Our instruments

Color of skin,

Below the lights,

Flowers fall in.

A sea of faces,

Of many shades.

A sea of sound, 

As others play.

A trapeze act,

A flying duck,

A dancing horse,

Tumble and tuck.

A woman green,

Who smiles dearly.

Does this show

Happen a-yearly?

Up in the small

Matinee there

Rapunzel let’s

Down her long hair.

The glowing sun,

Is it false light?

Not knowing if

Outside is night.

The feeling of

A sea of clapping.

O wait I hear

A watcher yapping.

The cello shares

The sea of strings,

With all of these

Performance things.

Blended colors,

Of every shape.

A pair present

Their flowing cape.

Spinning fast,

Or spinning slow.

Where do you think

The spinners go?

All blue crowns

Surround me now.

A sea of people.

Take a bow.

Our blue pants,

Match his shirt.

My pink dress 

Points stage left.

Your red shirt

Points stage right.

Are they expecting

Us to fight?

(Chagall’s Ecuyère au cirque ensoleillé , 1980)