Van Gogh, Roses, 1890
—For Mathieu & Rachel
Calendar above my bed:
the harsh grid of days softened
by almost translucent
blue-white roses
so close to dissolving—
how the plague of failure
must have fingered the wound of your gift—
the sad angles of the leaves
remorseful in the fading light
from the transparent evening sky
above of the sanatorium in Saint-Remy in May.
Knowing you had it—
knowing you would be forgotten
before you were even remembered—
About the Author: Brendon Booth-Jones is the Editor-in-Chief of Writer’s Block Magazine in Amsterdam. Brendon’s work has appeared in Anti-Heroin Chic, Amaryllis, Botsotso, The Blue Nib, Ghost City Review, Odd Magazine, Peeking Cat, Scarlet Leaf Review, Zigzag and elsewhere. Brendon won the 2019 White Label Competition for his debut poetry collection, Vertigo to Go, which will be published by Hedgehog Poetry Press in 2020. Find him on Facebook @brendonboothjoneswriter
Image Credit: Vincent Van Gogh “Still Life: Vase with Pink Roses” (1890) Public Domain
As It Ought To Be 
Nails it, those hidden feelings.
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