“La tristesse durera toujours”
Vincent Van Gogh’s final words.

Like Van Gogh’s gospel
the water of my sermon is a fire of tears.
For Babylon a lover left me to her bed of coal;
my earmarked re(a)d: return to sender.
 
Her faceless sons who flank my pyre
just fingers, noses;  swirls of charcoal
I will etch into the firmament -
forever turbulent–  tristesse.
 
Who – desolate by shimmering grace –
ascended to the starry night
by pistol-shot, and left lament
among the wildflowers?

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