Empty Chairs

Empty empty empty so many empty chairs everywhere. They look charming in van Gogh’s paintings. I quietly sit on them and try to rock but they don’t move — they are frozen by what’s breathing inside them. Van Gogh waves his paintbrush — leave leave leave there’s no funeral tonight. He looks straight through me, and I sit down in the flames of   his sunflower like a piece of clay to be fired. Translated from the Chinese