Louvre, Nike Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

Hide away from guards of Louvre, come this evening,
ride the wings of Nike with me to fly; let us oversee
Babylon that is sowing law, alphabet and weights,
Greece reaping Justice, Language and Measure.

Aphrodite needs no ornament, also the Cyprus woman
squeezes her breast painfully to let her rose-milk flow;
look at the Aegina girl, a delicate bud in a cold helmet;
Homer, hears peace with the ears of the dog of Ithaca*.

The harlot has her hair longer to wipe His feet; watch
Mouriyo caresses the little beggar with rays in his den,
Bellano helps Saint to remove a thorn from a lion’s paw.
It’s high time for El Greco to lance death with his brush,
for Caravaggio to raise the Mother up from the darkness.

Fly inside the real Art: now, call upon Elena of Rubens,
tell Markeza of Goya not to be afraid of the death,
ask Baltasar what Raphael told him about aesthetics,
help embroiderers of Vermeer to do Needlework of Life.
Like Leonardo, smile with Gioconda’s lips, for a reason.

Come and fly to culture with the Nike’s wings, in timeless
Time, from high to the depth, from darkness to the light,
thus excluding our exclusion; like that servant on whose
mummy it was written: “I’ll serve, even after my death.”



© JosephJosephides