Jul/Aug 2015 Poetry

Van Gogh: Last Weeks at Auvers

by Bob Bradshaw

Photography by Lydia Selk

Photography by Lydia Selk

Van Gogh: Last Weeks at Auvers

Who would know a storm is spinning
towards the coast, with the air
along the shore so calm?

For weeks Vincent had been as serene
as a Koi pond

but he sensed a change coming.
First there was restlessness,
then a few bad dreams.

began to poison his sleep.

Dr. Gachet visited, slumped
into a big chair across from Vincent,
his absurdly small beret
perched atop his red hair.

"Think of better times.
And paint that ocean of wheat
washing the hills," he advised.

How could he? Vincent asked himself
Exhausted, he longed only
to slip away, to become
a glacier melting
into the sea's


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