We need art for the walls, said the owners
of the Four Seasons restaurant in New
York. Something to go with vinaigrette salads,

Maryland crab cakes, the usual slew.
Let´s get Rothko. And Rothko measured, and
mixed and painted, but in the end, refused.

It´s not me, it´s Michelangelo´s hand,
he said. All the doors and windows bricked up,
trapped inside, nothing to do. Bang your head

against it
–but let there also be worship.
Please–hats off when entering the painting–
no crisp farmhouse duck, ceviche scallops.

Meditation and raw meat, a meeting
between business men and smoked lobster bisque,
spiritual cannibalism, eating

their well-tapered tongues out, no risk.
Maroon, butcher´s blood, hearts and massacres,
but contained, controlled with geometrics.

Religious–a portrait of his innards.
So Rothko phoned the commission, withdrew,
and his liver inched out, called to the birds.









Andrea Dulanto is a Latina, lesbian writer, currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Florida International University. She has worked as an assistant editor for Gulf Stream and organized poetry readings for the FIU Women's Studies Conference. Her work appears in Tigertail: A South Florida Poetry Annual and is forthcoming in Court Green.

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