|Photo posted by Tess Kincaid |
for Magpie Tale #74
Perhaps if we’d known then about the masks,
it wouldn’t be so hard to accept now;
but the dressing rooms were hidden from us,
locked behind the clothes racks in the closets.
I believed in the value of faces:
the good and bad, true and false, black and white;
the land of the free and the golden rule.
Masks were for Mardi gras, minstrels and plays.
But one day I found a skeleton key
that opened the door to the hidden room.
An old sign said: All masks are free. Take one.
Write your name in the book on the table.
And there they were – volume after volume,
Names, dates, masks they’d chosen and worn.
I smiled, and wiped a tear as I wrote:
Howdy Doody mask: “Hey Kids, what time is it?”
I didn’t bother to lock the door …
Poem posted for