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Celia Stuart-Powles – Ⅲ

Self-portrait with Bandaged Ear 


In my mental or nervous fever, or madness . . .my thoughts

sailed over many seas.”  

                                                       Vincent VanGogh, Arles, January 1889



Ah, Paul,         Kill him!

look now—      that voice:

how I paint        a rank offering

all in blue, my angry flesh

how I ache           sliced away

for the sea-spray   like sin,

of love, the wind t he salt taste

of your breath,     as it was rent,

the moor of your arms   pared away

now loosed to drift—      like the waning moon

the doctor circles           steeping darkness—

my nest like a gull:          I cannot rest,

Eros ousted,           the sore festers,

the cuckoo’s hatched,       and in the distance

like an unwelcome squall,    the sound of crows

rising—to sweep me away,          Ah Paul . . .