Editor’s note:  We’re proud to be featuring Michael Lind’s work at Liberty Island. This is the sixth of eight poems.


Looking for the republic?
It’s never where you would expect it,
in lawns that are striped by the shadows
of statues, or whispering hallways.

In the poise of secretaries
and solemnities of store-clerks
you see it at times, the republic,
but then there is only boredom

and the stress of a day and suspicion.
A rustle, a stirring, a flicker,
it’s always almost in your vision,
the always almost a republic.


Photo by Thomas_H_foto