Friday, June 24, 2016


Back when I was at the University
The Tomas Masaryk monument
Stood in a field by itself.
Though not a rider, Masaryk
Sat stiffly on a bored bronze horse.
Some nights, dismounting,
He’d walk down the Midway
To check in with the statues
Crowding Rockefeller Chapel.
He might chat with Zoroaster
Or listen to Athanasius tell jokes
Of surprising puerility.
As he passed her, St. Cecilia
Often hummed the opening bars
Of Jezu Kriste Scedre Kneze
Which he used to sing in
When he was a boy and not an image.
There is a statue of a girl, a student,
Named Margaret Green. She stands
Next to the west nave entrance.
She gave him one night a prayer
I’d left carelessly behind
(The ambulatory was quiet. I went there
To think about ghosts but fell asleep.).
Passing my dorm on his way back
Masaryk left the prayer in my mailbox.
(No, I didn't see him leave it
But how else did it get there?)

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