Marianne Szlyk writes

No. 7 (Green and Maroon), Rothko (1953)

Tangy red mud clings to the beach,
the ocean at low tide.
The world dwindles
to what we see
in this room without whispers.

The darkened shade is pulled
down to hide the sky
with its shreds of clouds.
Shades of white would spoil the view.
Keening seagulls might whirl up,
breaking the fourth wall,

the belief
that our world has dwindled
to green and maroon paint.