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.
