lovely Leonardos
a Cohen, of the priestly class

the sailors leave tea and oranges
by your door in Hydra

here is Suzanne’s mirror for you to hold
show me who I am

heal me with your cracks
of liquid light

jagged and gleaming
across my heart

you knew just how far
we all might travel in our blindness

lovely Leonardos
this lonely one can see you

I have always been your lover
I sink before your wisdom like a stone
                        

one

an arched eyebrow
an upturned chin at a dramatic angle

a Grace Kelly headshot
with sunglasses and silk scarf tied below the chin

an air that said she knew inside she could have been a star
but for a woman’s burdens

two

intelligent blue eyes
on a Catherine Deneuve face

that might have bought her more
had someone, early on, showed her she was worthy

three

a long-legged Liz Taylor
reclining on a discounted beach towel

feeling hungover in the dunes
at an expensive seaside resort

next to four sunburned children 
and an unfortunate man with a middle-class wage

four

the Barbara Stanwyck smile
of a disenchanted woman

an alluring femme fatale 
caught in the wrong mid-century modern script

five

sitting at a bar, somewhere warm
palm trees in the background

a few drinks into the evening, amused
in the company of the right someone

just enough money, for a brief moment
to forget who she is and live like a star
                        

who taught you so well, at 17
that love can only be

a thin-skinned balloon
bouncing upon a pin

all this time you have been hiding from sharp objects
safe and deep inside your heart

all these tangled years
braided with barbed black ribbons

it was hard for broken teachers to explain
that which they had not learned

leaving you to see yourself
through a funhouse mirror

forgive them for their misshapen minds
they were misguided too

when they close their eyes in the dark
they are visited by guilty ghosts and cannot look away