The Starry Night —by Anne Sexton That does not keep me from having a terrible need of — shall I say the word — religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars. —Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother The town does not exist except where one black-haired tree slips up like a drowned woman into the hot sky. The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die. It moves. They are all alive. Even the moon bulges in its orange irons to push children, like a god, from its eye. The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars. Oh starry starry night! This is how I want to die: into that rushing beast of the night, sucked up by that great dragon, to split from my life with no flag, no belly, no cry. Page last updated 14 Dec 2006 Van Gogh Starry Background & Ireland's OWN Logo by Míchealín Daugherty Copyright © 2006 Ireland's OWN. All Rights Reserved.