I am a prisoner in Van Gogh’s bedroom
perhaps living in all 3
together
not knowing which room
I am in
I lie in the orange bed
in an altered state
happy in the color
confused by the color
I am only waiting
perhaps waiting to leave
the color
but not sure that I can
walk on these variegated floors
not yet
established in unswerving rest
A green window
opague
slightly ajar
perhaps I can open
the green window
peer out
of Van Gogh’s bedroom
or leave forever
through the blue door