the boundless wheat fields by Dan Sicoli what if she had carried the newspaper that held van gogh’s gift out to the unpleasant dirt and carefully buried it and what if the authorities hadn’t denied passage to the house of light from yellow to dark from shadow to blue would come the bleeding of earth out of paint out of pain and she must have sung of the purity of the bitter class a knife a brush a pittance of tribute sequestered in some dark fold o room of enumeration o vibrant eye o blush heart of resentment the killing is in the oil when the red sun mixes with absinthe and she too learns to set her clothes ablaze
144
Santa Fe Literary Review 2014