Alexandra Umlas
Mona Lisa
Your smile is the most ambiguous kind,
now worth a billion dollars, people try
to name it, wonder often where you lie,
would love to grasp your hands, to read your mind,
to pull away the mystery like a rind,
to climb inside the canvas to ask why
your face was brushed against a lapis sky—
the human [gone] — and what is left behind?
Arrested rivers, eyes erase your voice;
cool air, safe lighting, glass, paid guards that pace;
your hair [turned art]; the body [paint]; the womb
[a canvas]; birthing history’s famous choice;
a certain pleading in the painting’s face;
your smile [a gift]; your frame [a living tomb].
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