Devotion

It is nearing dawn and the Louvre is silent

except for the sound of the guard's

footsteps that echo down the empty halls. In the wave of stillness,

I will kiss you. Loose myself in your smile, count the angels

soaring in arcs above your head. And as the sun rises, Mona,

I will strip you of your dowdy clothes, paint you in reds

and golds, the brilliance of the dawn.

You will whisper your secrets in my ear, tell me

how you dream of gardens, the first frost of winter, amour.

I will understand why your horizons are uneven, why you sit

so still behind sheets of glass.

Too soon you will be lost in the crowds, the sound of voices calling

your name, expecting you to answer. Our lips will part
and you will grow distant but I know that come tomorrow,

Mona, we will find each other

in the darkness.