Monticello House Tour by Kiki Petrosino

Monticello House Tour

 

What they never say is: Mr. Jefferson’s still

building. He’s just using clear bricks now

for his turrets & halls, for the balconies

rounding his palace in transparent loops

of dug air. After death, it’s so easy

to work. No one sees him go out

from the Residence, his gloves full

of quiet mortar. Mr. Jefferson’s coat is narrow

as daybreak. His long sleeves drag in the muck

as he minces his turf. You know the room

you were born in? It’s part of the tour. Hundreds

of rooms unfolding for miles, orchards alive

in the parlor. Remember that gold chair you loved,

the one with a face like a lion, especially

in late winter, when Mother sat with you

in her pink gown, humming? As it happens

Mr. Jefferson built you that lion. He drew

your time in prudent proportions. You have one

job: to fit the design he keeps spinning.

Your whole life is laced through a ring

of similar finds. Look, it’s all mothers

in pink gowns, humming.