Poetry

Withdrawn Masks

Perhaps it was the anxiety concealing it

Clean dishes. Folded clothes. Spotless floors And opened windows.

The smell that dinner makes when it’s ready Groceries on the front step — the fridge is full But emptiness still writes a blank check on my severed soul.

Perhaps it was the anxiety — before — concealing it You’re gone now and all things are painless, I feel it. Who am I in this home in your absence? Scampered off once again, beyond the fence.

Being out there — amongst them all I once thought I was veiled Stepping out beyond the door I’d sense a change of face ‘I must fear them’ — I thought, ‘they can’t see me for me’ Now, us ended, I see that the transition from masked to unmasked Has past.

You see, I didn’t rig the mask when I spilled out of the door I see soberly now and unwrought by criticism That when I fell into the arms of the world I discarded it.

What has changed now My spouse? I can be me In my own house.

Do you feel this way too? Did you? Did we?