Ned Balbo Marco Polo Welcomed at Moriana That’s one solution: put up a façade.
This villa, sheetrock-thin and midnight blue,
whose courtyard is a painted bamboo curtain
(trompe l’oeil fruit tree, effervescent fountain),welcomes you with falsehood undisguised.
These women, too, each safe in her facade.
One bows; the other stands beside a chair—
your makeshift throne, bright purple, murex-dyed—as if to shade a potentate or pope,
her parasol held high. Should you sit down
or stand, unmoved? She’s fixed you lemonade
strained salmon-pink, straw tilted on a glassyou’re pretty sure is real. Fluffed slippers wait.
“Don’t bow—” Your hostess takes your bag from you,
eyes sycophantic, awed, or simply awful
as she smiles: what does she think she’s owed?Their plot will play out in its own good time....
For now, you’ll hold your tongue: admire the stage-set,
not the slum beyond; commend the paint job,
not the rubble, vacant lot, bombed wallsneglect and violence wrecked past all façade.
Nora Sturges
Marco Polo Welcomed at Moriana
2005
oil on panel
10x12.5 inches
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