The Monument and the Shrine

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1

At focus in the national 
Park’s ellipse a marker 
Draws tight the guys of

Miles, opposite the national 
Obelisk with its restless oval 
Peoples who shall be

Deeply drawn to its 
Austerities: or
For a moment try the mystery

Of the god-like eye, before 
Our long climb down past relic 
Schoolboy names and states

And one foolish man 
Climbs up, his death high 
In his elliptic face.

2

A double highway little 
Used in early spring
Goes to the end of the land

Where Washington’s chandeliers 
Are kept, his beds and chairs, 
His roped-off relic kitchen

Spits, his pans; his floors
Are worn underneath the dead 
Pilgrims’ feet; outside

The not-so-visited tomb; 
And over the field and fence 
His legendary river:

And so I walk although 
The day is cold for this; 
I eat a thin slice

Of bread and one remarkable 
Egg perfectly shaped, 
A perfect oriental por-

Celain sheen of white. 
Suddenly the lost 
Ghosts of his life

Broke from the trees and from the cold 
Mud pools where he played 
A boy and set as a man

The sand glint of his boot,
The flick of his coat on the weeds; 
His wheels click in the single road.

© John Logan