by Mari McKee
A short poem about what lies beneath the mask
|The Mask "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest"
she gathered some clouds,
hiding her face within them.
Within a secret place inside her,
she reached for a mask
to replace her hidden face.
She blew fire and brimstone
from the bleeding lips of her mask,
blistering the wooden panes of a window.
She wished a blaze of lightning
would descend from her clouds,
striking, but not killing him.
He had beaten her black and blue,
forever removing the blush of innocence
from her now hideous face.
She crushed the blossoms
of his last bouquet, with a righteous fist,
hoping it was his soul.