The Jefferson Memorial

Glance across a lobe of the Tidal Basinand shift to the right to frame in stoneand light the blue-green bronze whose gaze,if it had one, would just take in the monument

to Washington, built without a single curve.If it could see, then it might hear as wellthe languages that rise from heads thrown backto see the graven words and the outward lift

of the vault and its familiar illusionof weightless stone. Behind it at sunsetpeople follow their headlights to Virginia,where Monticello treasures more of who he was.

Here the stately quiet puts awaythe hobbyist, the restless tinkererwhose words on slavery were nobler than his deeds,and holds aloft the possibilitythat this man could have been created equally.