They share a tiny room
in the Galleria Doria Pamphilij,
two images of Innocent X—

Velasquez’s famous portrait
of the seated pontiff in red mozzetta,
holding a note, ready for action against
his rivals the Barberini or the English
or the Duchy of Parma (didn’t enjoy
heir cheese, perhaps) or the Jansenists
(whose rigor made them Catholic Puritans)

and nearby under Innocent’s steely gaze,
his twin, Bernini’s bust, this Innocent
with a slight grin and one eye toward
his painted likeness.
                                        This standoff
was not with himself, the Pamphilij pope,
or his enemies, but with the sculptor,
whose botched bell tower for St. Peter’s
under Urban VIII, was Innocent’s first
urban renewal project—demolished,
along with Bernini’s papal favor.                                 
                                                            But here we witness
the reconciliation of pope and artist,
after Bernini envisioned Navona’s fountain,
four rivers of worlds old and new,
that renewed their friendship.                              
                                                       So we’re left
with this delicate pas de deux between
oil and marble hiding history, revealing
a world of humanity.