Vincent

Where are you
now that I need you?
You broke the line.
Remade, it broke
and broke
and breaks again.
There is no last of line,
of just one thing
until the last of line,
of all of line.
You wove the arcs of rainbow
until your sun rose upside down,
and in your brilliant dark
you fell upon your palette of pain.
Even in this desert
it will rain again.
Once painting’s born
who cares
where goes the brush
that stroked it?
And Vincent
so
I know where you are now,
when I need you most.