patina of a vanishing

mona lisa then and now

he promised not to harm her…he…Pascal Cotte
her…La Gioconda… Mona Lisa…La Joconde

then he swept her with his pixels…millions in a filter scan
across her image on the famous Lombard poplar panel

he brought to light da Vinci’s thinnest brush stroke
of sfumato’s tinted oil…laid on painstakingly

Cotte bared her lush cheek blush, her hint of lashes,
eyebrows…and a tear trace of moisture in her gaze

there now visible…lace touched her white shoulder
a black green backdrop he defined to ermine and gray blue

her hair…curling spirals delicate all chestnut brown
her hand… gently holds a shawl upon her lap

her lips…bloomed rose, smile slightly now unveiled
with its corner shadow tension…exquisite

her nose…more dominant on a brightened face
no longer jaundiced yellow by its varnish years

so…Cotte has not harmed her… except to some
who believe in time’s patina of a vanishing

Bonnie Marshall

12 thoughts on “patina of a vanishing

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