This museum has imposing walls, as if the architect

meant to break the city lines, leaving the building here

on its own. The mid-afternoon light leaves so little

to the imagination, even the shadows seem to crawl out

for a sun bath. I was nervous when we met for coffee,

your smile daring me to be uncomfortable. There’s still so much

unsaid as we pass through the glass doors into the unknown,

the great minds of yesterday telling us to feel the same in a time

when nothing is. You look with so much wonder on all that is past,

never wanting to go near it, distance is enough. You said

your favorite room is the nineteenth century portraits, the big one

of Washington looking gallant, like the hero a new country would need.

It reminds me of how difficult it is to be brave in our time,

not that we aren’t. The world doesn’t demand it of us anymore.

Gone are the conflicts held high for humanity to see inside,

all that will be tested remains unheard, the battles meant for one.

Alex Stanley is a graduate of Boston College, and he received his MFA in Creative Writing at the University of California, Irvine. He is a former sports journalist, and his sports writing has been featured in Sports Illustrated. His published poems have appeared in American Poets Magazine, HCE Review, Poet’s Choice, Helix Magazine, Sunspot Literary Journal, RockPaperPoem, Limit Experience Journal, Beyond Words Magazine, Wingless Dreamer, Clepsydra Literary and Art Magazine, The Closed Eye Open, Duck Lake Journal, The Write Launch, Doozine, and Hare’s Paw Literary Journal. He is a recipient of the 2021 Academy of American Poets Award. He resides in Costa Mesa, CA.