As a form of protest, I will stop writing in my own voice.
As a gesture toward reconciliation, I will begin writing in the voices of unnamed others.
The eyes are cowries; they smile in the shape of a frown.
I saw myself in the lorry’s rearview mirror. I looked farther away than I was, half swallowed in the dust storm.
Hold me, I said to the mask. Keep us together.
Pleased to meet “you.”
beautiful beadwork!
Central American, is it?
No, West African. Burkinabe, I think. I forget which ethnic group.
!!!
This is a great poem.
The eyes are cowries; they smile in the shape of a frown.
False etymology, I’m sure, but have you noticed how much the chinese characters for eye and cowrie resemble each other?
I don’t think i ever learned the character for cowrie. If i had chinese characters enabled here on my ‘pooter, I’m sure I could look it up…
Glad you liked the poem.
A beautiful poem and mask. I wanted to put a mask on too, and write from other voices, but we’re in midst of a heatwave, and all my masks have melted.
I hope the weather moderates for you soon. Our cold front just blew in today.
It’s a good time to write in other’s voices. I feel that too. And if I had a mask I might wear it.
Thanks for expressing this Dave.
It’s a tempting way to hide, isn’t it? Classier than wearing a t-shirt that proclaims, “Don’t blame me, I voted for X!”