Poetry | At the Accademia, Venice

These painters loved the Virgin Crowned.

In blue and white or white and gold,

on every canvas glorified,

she bows to let her son confer

the kingdom. Exquisitely gowned,

freed from the grave or growing old,

she’s one man’s mother, no man’s bride.

We love her, but cannot envy her.

—Gail White

Published in the 2013-06-01 issue: 
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