Mona Lisa Thinks Out Loud
I almost smile but Leonardo is a stern man.
'You sit still, Mona', he barks.
'Call me Lisa', I think to myself.
I am slightly insulted by his use of 'madam' to me. Suddenly, I want to be single.
Leonardo would want to show a bit of respect, my husband is paying him good money for this portrait.
Hmmm.. why did I agree to do this ? The babies filled me with female fear. I want to be painted while I am still considered young..Vanity has me trapped on this chair, listening to the brush strokes of Mr. Da Vinci.
That space in the hall of our house could have been filled by a painting of a horse or a dog maybe?
Instead, I sit...Leonardo barks....turpentine and sweat....
strangely sensual..
but I am a respectable wife and mother, I won't allow my train of thought to wander..., but what else is the sitter supposed to do?.
'Fold your hands, like this' Leonardo shouts.
'Keep your hair on, artist', I want to say, but fold my hands anyway.
He is so masterful, this Leonardo.
Artists are so mysterious and wonderful somehow.
I dare to peek at his hands.....nice.....my mind wanders...off it goes on it's own, fabricating a life where I am an artist's muse....a room with a bed....tangled sheets..no respectable pillar of society for the stern Lisa anymore....
I smile my half-smile.
My infidelity of mind is painted onto canvas for all time...
Brigid O'Connor
Posted over on her site Sort of Writing
Listed as #3 over on Magpie Tales 59
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