The Louvre is so filled with masterpieces
that one doesn’t know
whether to feel awe or apathy.
Crowded in amongst Caravaggios and Pugets,
the tourists shuffle inch by inch
to view the masters.
But outside those carved marble halls
are shallow, flat pools
that reflect the facades
of the opulent wings of the building–
Denon, Sully, Richelieu.
Even their names are decadent.
Those mirror pools also reflect
the modern, simple
glass and metal pyramids
that emerge from that sumptuous ground
like progress, like industry.
And though there are riches untold–
oil paintings, sculptures, frescoes–
it is the exterior of the Louvre,
those peaceful rippling pools,
the slow cigarette-burn of dusk,
that overrides the senses
and remains vibrant in memory.