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B. J. Buckley

  • portlandbove
  • Jul 3
  • 1 min read

Updated: Jul 7



Late Rothko, Gray Over Black


for Mark Zimmerman



Low December sun paints the trees, the fields,

with brilliance, for hours, bare branch, shorn stubble

shimmering gold, and through our kitchen windows

across the table where the cats curl in their beds,

bathed in light, purring, warmed, in the wintery chill

of the house — and as it falls further, sinks into

the still ocean of afternoon, early evening, the whole

sky shouting blue above grows bands below,

of butter, then milk, then rose, then apricot, orange,

peach, lemon, like quick slides shifting on a screen,

one of those old carousel trays, click, click —

and almost without noticing, blue turns in on itself,

grays, shades, shadows; along the horizon, soft edge

of darkness, black over lavender, black over plum,

over violet, over cobalt, a blackness we have always

known, inhabited — womb, midnight, void, vastness,

that grave we rise and rise from, before and after,

ends and beginnings of worlds.





B. J. Buckley has worked as a teaching artist in Arts-in-Schools programs throughout the west and Midwest for more than 50 years. Her poem, "Pickin' Out", was a Finalist for the 2025 Western Writers of America Spur Award for Poetry. B. J.'s most recent books are Flyover Country (Pine Row Press) and Night Music (Finishing Line Press), both in 2024.

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