Susan M. Williams
Sensazione
Somewhere, a painting looks back at you
with a blank expression. Did you hear that?
It whispers, peering around the room.
Leonardo da Vinci’s face appears in a cartoon
cloud beside the canvas. His Italian lips form
the word sensazione and the sound of syllables
noodle around the fork of your brain, still trying
to make sense of a talking painting. The sleuth. You
step back, taking it in, while it studies your lines,
your hues, its guess for what’s beyond the edge
and then someone else creeps into the frame,
reaching for da Vinci, reeking of oxygen.