Death Wish
~after Death’s-Head Moth on an Arum, Vincent van Gogh, oil, 33 x 24 cm, 1889
At the asylum, the moth sidles up to you,
a death wish since to paint it
you’d have to kill it. A pity you say, since the beastie
is so beautiful (1). Named after your still-
born brother—imagine it! Vincent so popular
a family moniker that Johannes or Jan,
Hieronymus or Pieter just wouldn’t do for you—
you draw the wings,
their four Peacock-feather eyes
staring back at you,
then translate the thorax’s stripes
into a skull. Poor Yorick, perhaps, you lament
as you give slaughter thought,
then let it go.
Later, using your sketch & memory
limned by madness,
your brush surprisingly begins:
stroke by obsessive stroke,
olive wings with their penetrating oculi
emerge, spreading over the spathe
where death’s head also deliberates,
perched upon the bracts, those arrows
aiming for the crimson berries above,
reaching for relief.
(1) Letter 592, May 25, 1889 as cited in Van Gogh’s Flowers by Judith Bumpus, Barnes & Noble Books, New York, 1995.