Rothko Chapel

By Alana Baum

Too quiet to write you said it would be too quiet to write

Who you shutting up for?

Here with the perfect shapes and barely bloody blues and floor seats and a guest book with my phantom first two letters already filled in / she said something like we were waiting

What do other people pray for in such spaces? / I feel full on just a mouthful of what words I know

Silent and monochromatic

My longing for a silken suspension then this spiritual lift-off is as synchronous as the parking spot / as my dual-tone denim matching the all of this / as anything we’re willing to say was meant to be

How long did he spend on each and where does the red end and the gray begin and where does grief end and healing begin and what I would give to stay firmly lodged in a moment

Breathless realm / sacred shapes / symmetrical shadows / neutral god here for the dutiful and despondent

Soggy trifurcated murals thick with slow rhythms and intentional incidentals

You would have loved it I only think on occasion because at the end of the day there was plenty to deflate

Look long enough that the ghosts start looking back

Nothing to see here everyone says / no one means / never true / nearly blue

But the grown and growing heart / but the light shaft / but the whisper

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Alana Baum (she/they) is a queer poet from Los Angeles, currently living in Philadelphia. Her work has been published in Argot Magazine, Oatmeal Magazine, No Assholes Literary Magazine, and Yes Poetry. Alana also writes custom poems for strangers via @softcorepoetics. They are in graduate school to become a sex therapist.

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