Pink-tinted 

marble floors

and

ceilings etched 

in gold

by lady freedom

 

swarms of gaping mouths

and far-too-full camera rolls

shuffle behind red-coated 

guides 

 

the dimmed sun 

begins her descent

and the crescent moon

takes her shift

 

Brumidi’s

Washington

no longer 

an apotheosis

 

his brush-stroked 

countenance

and plaster-backed

powder blue

dress coat 

 

d r a g g e d 

d

  o 

    w 

       n 

 

into

the  

crypt  

flooded with 

unsigned bills

streaked with

ad hominems 

and lobbying

funds

 

with amendments

that can’t seem 

to walk across 

aisle

 

he 

wades through

the disordered 

piles

grasping at 

the rotunda’s 

bare porcelain walls

head tilted upward

eyes wide and fixed 

on the 

bare 

plaster dome

 

but feet firmly

on the

ground