Love Letter for Vincent
I would have sat quietly on the hillside
while you painted the stars
and I would not have tossed
the sunflowers before
you were done with them.
I would have tended
the irises, dusted your chair,
and made your bed, in love
with the vibration inside all things—
just like you. I would not have judged
the cut ear or the old sermons.
I would have cooked your potatoes,
wiped clean your shoes,
and bought you another absinthe
at midnight in the
pool hall.
I would have brought a picnic lunch
and a cool drink to the wheat field.
I would have marveled with you at the sun
and the patterns the black birds made
as they flew low along the horizon.
Lisa Vihos
