Mona is the star of the Louvre.
From under the Pyramid into Denon,the appreciators move in a steady, paced, continuous flow,
following at every possible diversion of path the placard posted with Mona’s face and an arrow.
Mona is this way!

Twisting to the right past naked marble Greeks,
then up the stairs like upstream salmon swimming hard before Winged Victory,
darting to the right, struggling to keep forward movement,
struggling against the cross currents of wireless guides and their tours,
struggling to see the next Mona wayfinder.

Do we seek you because it was Leo who painted the wood a half a millennium ago;
because kings displayed you in their palaces and Napoleon in his bedroom;
because there is that mystery in your eyes and in your smile?
Yes...for all those reasons and reasons more and no reason at all.

The doorway to your room is open and the room is big and bright
like a throne room, a hall where royalty receive guests.
You wait on the far side of the room,
elevated above the rest, removed from the rest of all there is.
You have your own wall.

Admirers admire with passive shoves and gentle elbowing
to work their way closer for a better view of you,
and hope with exhausted hearts that you will look their way,
a better angle for their cell phone cameras.

Yes, Mona, you are the star of the Louvre.

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