Vincent
(In memory of Mark
Flaum)
On my walls
were sunflowers
fields with haybundled
clouds
star blessed skies
available as
sustenance
for teenaged angst
There was a matador
and bull
On her wall
a gift I brought her
a romantic dream
dispelled in the ruedo
with the spilling of
blood
Driving through Arles
magic all around us
Jeannette’s mouth
agape
with the wonder of
fairyland
I was surprised
you also showed up old
friend
unbidden
I saw you slouched
at the yellow café
and again at the
bridge
your red beard
turning grey
your sad eyes turning
towards me slowly
from the hospital
window
I could see you smile
and wave
while I walked hand in
hand with Jeannette
drunk with joy
that was Arles then
to her the corrida
had none of
Hemingway’s grandeur
was an abattoir
gone public
she saw too much red
in the ring
too little yellow
much like you did old
friend
at the end
everywhere black and
red
that fateful night
that starless starless night
Albert Katz
Tags:
Poetry