by Drora Matlofsky

After the picture was painted,
Mona Lisa got up
And shook herself,
Her eyes, her shoulders, her arms,
And her laughter rang through the palace.
Her legs, thankful to be alive,
Took her around the room
In a little dance.
Gracefully, she came up to the painter
And gazed at the picture he had just finished.
Do I look like that?
Sometimes, said Leonardo with an enigmatic smile.

Drora Matlofsky has been living in Jerusalem since 1984. Her poetry in English has appeared in various poetry and Jewish magazines and her poetry in French can be found on the Poésie Française site.

Last updated October 31, 2015