The Sand Hill Review               http://www.sandhillreview.org 2006

The Stanford Quad as Evening Falls

A garish mural mounts up and over the chapel doors,

Christ preaching to the masses,

surrounded by bits of Byzantine gilt.

Otherwise, the compound with its dusty tan arcades

persists in looking Moorish, like some exotic movie set.

The backdrop—the sky—turns lavender at twilight.

Frowsy palms thrust into it,

towering over the sandcastles.

Displayed at the entrance—a collector’s coup—

wearing carved rags and nooses

to ransom their neighbors,

Rodin’s burghers give it all up.

The students passing by tell themselves,

“All that I can imagine is mine.”

Yet in one earthquake after another,

the buildings, made of sand, fall apart.

The shock of a recent temblor

sent the pavement surging out in waves—

jouncing, bucking a girl on her bike

as glass globes of lanterns burst.

Tonight the sea of tiles is calm.

Two children run by, bare feet slapping

on the cat’s tongue roughness of the brick.

Skateboards clatter up against the columns.

The crown of a palm tree tests the wind.

Lauren Rusk