This appears in a pre-2010 issue
of cc&d magazine.
Saddle-stitched issues are no longer
printed, but you can requesting it
“re-released” through amazon sale
as a 6" x 9" ISBN# book! Email us for re-release to order.
My collection of masks is not hung
Up to illustrate a wall,
To show strangers where I’ve been,
Or how much I know
Of medical rituals and religions
I can only call primitive
With braces, a mask with two faces.
They are made from what is splendid
And easily at hand inside me
They are crafted by those I meet
And I receive them as a gift
To wear them when I see them again,
All trace of clouds in my eyes
And flames on my tongue hidden
But not smothered.
My masks hold together
The facets of this face, this heart,
They keep the lips in place,
To say the right word,
They do not honor the dead,
They only serve the living,
Ready and polished, they age
And mix well with my skin
And fading features, keeping
Strength in being distinctive.
