My Mask
by Columbine
My mask is beautiful, painted leather from Brazil
Sculpted and shaded into joyous flames that curl
Twisting into the night, self-infatuated
Beauty for its own sake, that's why it fits
Pointy bird-nose, wide awake
What does this taste like, let me try!
Pressing flat shadow upon my born-grown shapeface
Framing the world in wary almond slits
Looking back onto eyes that suddenly unafraid
Wonder, This is new, what is it like, shall I ask?
For I will make no promises in my mask's name
Nor shall I ask favors on its behalf
I am an art gallery tonight, flashing and fine
A place where beauty does not frighten
A place where desire does not imply promises
A place where one can be entranced
And not commit to grey cement refusal
of
en
trance
ment
ever
ever
again
so help me god
My mask is art
Art is my home
And here in my mask
I need not long to be real.
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