Conscription Of A Painter Poem by Charles Fisher

Fighting for freedom they
Signed his huge heart away
(They who could not even forget
How great his mind, his palette)

But we suppose it was necessary,
This bloodless, domestic victory,
For there was much to hope
Slain by a long envelope
In the grave fury of his glances.

You who think you know all the answers,
And write with sober confidence to the press,
Consider what we must defend, and witness
His empty room, his northlight wasted.