ManicDDaily

Mask

When young, they were fitted for the mask,
an age when every question asked
could be answered with because—
Pretty is as pretty does,
for children will take on a task

adults won’t swallow without a flask
full of flow as hot as ash
and guaranteed to grant a buzz
of when young.

But though they aged, the mask stuck fast;
it trapped their warmth just like the cask
they tapped now, sipped and sometimes guz-
zled, to scrape off “is,” grate down to “was,”
bare what they’d been by file or rasp
when young.

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Still playing with Rondeaus — not very well–here’s a draftish one for Grapeling’s prompt on With Real Toads to write a poem about a mask. 

This is also a signing-off for me for now, maybe.  I am trying very hard to get myself to go on an extended blog break, at least for the month of November.  As some readers know, this has been a super busy work period for me.  Blogging poetry and being part of the online poetry community has been a wonderful way to get out of my workaday mode–but it also keeps me from getting to certain larger fiction projects that I’ve put on hold practically forever (and keep talking of going back to.)  I really do want to make one more effort, and November, national noveling month, seems a good time to try.

That said, do check in from time to time, as I am likely to (i) break my resolution, (ii) post pictures; and (iii) miss you terribly!   

Take care, k.