THE MASK

The mask, it feels so safe. But is it? You put it on and out you go to the shop and interact within the allowed, social, distance, as observed by law. Six feet the height of a man. Six feet the dept at which, one is buried. A particle fluid dynamicist has suggested 27 feet apart, as particles that are emitted from the mouth can reach that distance in an easy breath out. No one can see who you are, and it covers the mouth of others of which confrontation centers. Titillation is the mystery and for some, it is anonymity, touched with a bit of sexual fetish. Inviting and tempting, but yet warding off and away from the wearer. To some, it is a symbol of complete covering, invisibility. They finally don't feel as naked anymore, as vulnerable as they did before...

POEM: COLLEEN A Irish Tale

Rushed in wet wool, mad mud underfoot... Left the house at three, it was dark and I was heart-dipped in honey Courage and other belongings stuffed in an old pillowcase, my mother's swollen eyes and her smothered kisses It is the sickness that is the worse for me, moving always moving I drown in this smell, of vomit and the urine. I am so afraid...I have never been this afraid I tremble and am banged about the broken world outside of me It is always the same