I move more cautiously
than I once did.
It is unprofitable to meditate
upon what might have been
I’d rather know
well…
Yes. Yes, I’d rather know
that all faces hide still masks.
I see how the faces
change behind my quickening run
I hold no merit in the frozen paper
carved, painted, glistening, lovely
that dwells inside my own quick-smiling warmth
It’s quite as strange to me as I’m to you
I wonder.
If our masks came out, took over,
would we be better off?
or would we turn inward on our own selves and die?
but…
that might be my own mask speaking
down! Good girl. Be good and let who will be free.
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