Maskers Ball

Genetic alterations like cleft chins and widows peaks

Clean white teeth and braces,

Blush and pink watermelon lipgloss,

Handlebar mustaches and biker beards

All for nothing now and how ridiculous.

Behind a mask there’s no way

to flash a smile of gratitude to a shop clerk

or for someone’s kindness in holding

open a door.

We look plastic.

Polarized in soundless shock.

The cranes fly overhead in t-formations

migration from and to places I never visited

And now probably won’t either

Come to think about it,

those birds I knew,

birds

where I’ve been basking in year and year outside

Without the warmth in those million year old spaced.

As sounds of the floorboards let us know

Our short winter days draw nearer

The knuckles crack in my hands

Open and closed alone

I am divided by savage time.

For Celia