Today’s Poem

Seeing what Van Gogh Saw

At an August sunset
twenty students miss seeing
it. Also, the groundhog and fox-
scent. Even the raccoons
rattling the leaves. The professor
notes reactions in a moleskin. 
Stones thrown and insults arc
with authenticity. Almost 
lost in the trees, the last bit of sun. 
A boy leans into a girl’s ear:
This is what Van Gogh painted
before he committed suicide. 
The van’s engine and fog lights
call them back. She’s grape-vining
her legs around him. Someone
else picked up his backpack. 
He carries her and his sweat 
works on her like Novocain. 
Seeing a sunset is seeing the residue
of the terrain and trains 
you took to get here.

-Jason Braun