Brother, I sense you straight-backed
on the chair. Are your eyes fixed,
like mine, on the sunflowers in Arles?
Brother, they go to seed behind my lids, all
the palette’s colors bleed at the core.
I hear you shuffle and sigh
as you wait, but it won’t be much
longer now, as the blue shadows grow.
Each breath is stacked like hay, a heaviness
I struggle to push across this field,
this country, a hole opened by a bullet
within. I know you must ask why
I welcome this red bloom
in my gut. No more painted escape.
Stars swirl. Let me save these
last words for you: The sadness
will go on forever, Theo.

Ellen Austin-Li’s poetry collection, Incidental Pollen—a 2023 Trio Award finalist, 2024 Wisconsin Poetry Series semi-finalist, and runner-up to the 2023 Arthur Smith Poetry Prize—is forthcoming from Madville Publishing. She has two chapbooks, Firefly and Lockdown…(FLP Books). Her poetry appears in many places—she’s a Best of the Net nominee. Ellen holds an MFA from Solstice and lives in Cincinnati.