Van Gogh’s bedroom by Gogh
these days I avoid mirrors
as reflections of loved ones
gaze back at me
memories refuse to stay put
crowding nightly in murders
of crows come a visiting
laid low by pneumonia shot
I gaze at them quizzically vainly
deciphering their coded tidings
weaving in and out
of sleep awake moments
I finally rise to splash face
heaving bedroom
no longer floats, crows
have vanished too


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