Washington Interlude Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Washington Interlude

Rating: 4.0


The Mall sat at the hub of things.
The Hirshhorn, with its fountain
Of naked water, a spiritual oasis.

Gold days under the needle tower
Were a lucky strike. A shifting tableaux,
Tents and trees and sun.

The shy smile of melons luscious as Judy Garland's lips,
Old Glory hanging from every second wall
The red shoes of squirrels tap-dancing through the leaves

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