For Vincent

Rhymed | Ode

You offered sprawling branches
In the gesture of an upturned claw
But between the teal of tangled talons
These fresh spring blossoms hid far more.

It's a flexing of creation.
Where beauty breaches from the earth
Just like your almond blossoms
To celebrate your nephew's birth.

Next, you split your canvas with
Silky swirls of blues and greens
Beneath that came your ochre and
A scene of cyprus trees.

Did ochre make you happy
Did it mirror your content
When you waved that wheat field wand
Did it vanquish your lament

If true, I'm pleased you saw it often
Those golden yellow hues
Hung in frames on Arles walls
For private bedroom views.

I'd think of it as sanctuary but
Did you paint it thrice
Disgruntled that what came before was
Somehow imprecise?

I wish you stayed your razor blades
Before sinking deeper down
In spirals not unlike your skies
Toward the dim red lights of town. 

It hurts to look upon you, Vincent.
This bandaged, broken, brushed reflection
Dressed for colder weather
With eyes that yearn for warm connection.

But listen! A Parisian night calls joyful ochre's name.
She answers, as light above a terraced café
And in that night, your first starry touch
Shelters friends and French gourmet

Though the cobbles are all gone
And the ochre needs a freshen
There's nothing more immortal than
A life in your impression.

With special thanks to David Brooks @ Without his studious record keeping, this poem would never have been completed