A first visit to the Uffizi
Patrick T. Reardon
Looking for Theopista who is
called a saint, painted by Lippi
who is called by Browning a
brothel-john in monk’s clothing
and, in the poem, admits his
out-of-boundsness, and paints
Job nearby with a label “Job”
and made long love to a nun
and got away with it because,
rich Cosimo de Medici the Elder
told anyone who would listen,
Lippi was a heavenly form
in fleshy flesh, no dray horse he.
Looking for and finding the
woman of the lost-luggage cab.
And finding the woman of
middle-age elegance pushing
a wheelchair.
And finding the woman of
bare feet in moist black soil as
lots are cast nearby.
Luther and Melanchthon
Looking at Luther and wife,
at Luther and Melanchthon,
at Cosimo’s grandson Lorenzo,
at a thick Roman head like
a Chicago grocery guy,
at the same woman in every
Botticelli Mary, already and
always enduring,
and, turning many corners,
Venus of Urbino by Titian
to meet old friends never
seen before in person, and
smiling to be at home
— deep in the today of
ever-present digits —
with beautiful shadows.
And a few blocks away,
the golden doors (replica)
— and, a few blocks further,
the golden arches.
Patrick T. Reardon
This poem originally appeared at Streetlight on 11.15.25.
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.