floating
in air
straps holding
bodies entangled
air slips through
while dangling
he floats above
she dangles below
music in a pose
wrapped in cellophane
black arched
bodies align
security
poses of
Kama Sutra
seduction's
**** eclipse

Decorative stonework windows

of blackness and grime

echo hatred versus love.

Yet the sidewalks follow

one red umbrella home

far from the dark clouds

and the pitter-patter of raindrops.



I want more than anything to escape

but these chains of grief

keep me captive and weak.

I have always been meek but strong,

but now I am living in a maze

and can't seem to find a clear path.

Every path is crooked and winding.



Yet the red umbrella is drying out;

so maybe the rain will move to someone else.

And maybe I will just put on a tomato red dress

to break the chains of grief for just one day.

Then I will twirl and twirl to a sixties song

and dance around my house

leaving a link at a time in each room.



Maybe the blackness and grime of tomorrow

will start to bleed into colors of yellow and pink.

And maybe I will become a new spring blossom

with a new beauty emerging out of the ***** ground.

Then I will attract the butterflies and the bees

to become the best version of who I was meant to be

and leave the blackness and grime far behind.

Your face has been a maze. Was the lie
a hidden devotion inside? A hidden sigh?
Were you smiling, back then? And, why?

Was the beauty of your days
found upon your singular face?
Was Leonardo charmed by your womanly ways?
Were you a captive to the dark side of him?
Was your smile just a secret
held in the heart of his whim?

Perhaps, your Mona Lisa grin
was nothing more than
the artist's portrait of only him.
Was that why you smiled within?
Could your face have been
the biographical face of his sin?

Your smile was somber; yet sweet.
Was it of a hidden need?
A hidden tease? Or, a hidden conceit?
Was it dangerous and scheming?
The mystery lies in the night
of Leonardo's own dark dreaming.

Your face was this mysterious thing
to be handed down through the ages,
to dangle on the broken wing
of some gallery's whimsy and guile.
Where we could all be drowned in,
held captive by, that Mona Lisa smile.