by Manny Grimaldi
Tonight the statue emerges
in le Musée du Louvre—
situated central to gay Paris
for a ticket price,
everyone comes to see.
Tonight my daughter stands
in le musée des antiquités
donning pink steampunk glasses
and a sleek, rambunctious tie
black on her white shirt
hooked
into a conversation
with a violin and The Moonlight’s 3rd movement.
And my ignorance knows no bounds
standing out as a chimpanzee
writing a sonata.
The statue is singular beauty like hope, incurable—
Venus de Milo grasps the world,
and like the moon lifts ships from the water,
my daughter is six impossible questions
before her eyes open,
and a whirlwind of answers,
narrowing the strait of Gibraltar.
Pegasus 