Do You Smile For Us?
You sit quietly
as you were brushed.
Centered in the First Arrondissement,
Bank right of the Seine,
West, in the old Île de la Cité
Do you smile for us?
Your name is whispered
but broken, with wings
in fragments.
Mo, mo, mo…
to languages far away
na, na, na…
Your gauzy veil,
the jocund one
Do you smile for us?
Stanchions of velvet
surround your bust.
Your luminescent skin
down to the pit of your throat.
A bullet for those who dare
to love you, Gioconda,
arms folded with your light touch
Do you smile for us?
Schillings opus
rendered your beauty silent
until the libretto from Beatrice
awakened your kindred spirit,
sharing your subtlety with the world.
Though your allure had been stolen,
your voice echoed again
in the Valley of Tuscany.
Your grace and refinement,
vanishing no more.
Do you smile for us?
The scrutiny of man
always and questions
of your origin left to answer.
A second child born
versus the patient wife
to the matriarch of Da Vinci.
Do you smile for us?
Your eyes
that shift to your lips
Your centuries old illusion
Your mysterious simper
that acid touched
Now and forever
Non-conjugally
greeting us
Do you smile for us?
Vincent Calvarese was born in Walnut Creek, California and has worn many hats in the Bay Area–barista, salesperson, journalist, graphic designer, union representative, deputy sheriff, homeless advocate and published writer and poet. After a long educational hiatus, he returned to City College of San Francisco in August 2017. He states he had become a lazy writer. His poetic work Grief was published in Forum in December 2017.
Forum Literary Magazine 
Wonderful!