Blue Green and Brown (Rothko 1952)

by on July 26, 2018 :: 0 comments

She wonders what is intimate
about an enormous canvas hung
up on a museum wall.
Museums are silent except for
garbled conversations, docents’ lectures, spills
of sound from someone’s device.
Nothing is intimate, not even
silence, the pristine space between
each person in a public place.

She sits at home with
the image on her screen,
all other lights off. In
twilight, blue, green, and brown
envelop her, keeping her company
in this humidity. Cicadas call
outdoors. Indoor and outdoor sounds
blend: buses’ wheeze, the washer’s
slosh. She feels the space
between her and them dissolve.

editors note:

Exhibit vs. experience; one to see, the other to be. (Congratulations, Marianne! This poem is one from her latest collection, On the Other Side of the Window, just published this month. You can get your copy here.) – mh clay

Leave a Reply