Grace Ravlin

GRACE RAVLIN

The summer’s Sky-Reflector-Net

is replicated in a gentle

eye : matrix of the spindle,

mote where lattice angles meet.

From Providence to Paradise

a simple triple-step,

sideways & back.  Steep

recapitulation – say, Toulouse

to Matilda, Queensland to Provence –

by cavern candlelight;

those hallowed aliens might

be us; San Vitale’s green silence

the dawn of some Franciscan renaissance.

She is the tender sphere’s

orbit... her love inheres

in eggshell domes, the garden’s permanence

Apollinaire after the war

ash in his peace pipe

Georgina with ripe

plum   to hand   so far

from feral death’s-head   pride   spite

the nations sleep   their rage

assuaged   hate in its cage

for now   low flute   bonsoir, bonne nuit

Grace Ravlin sets her easel there

Overlooking George Washington’s

Garden   good evening, Cyrus

greetings, Rose   O somersault   sweet air

6.26.15

Grace Ravlin : Overlooking George Washington's Garden, 1922