She wears one mask

She wears one mask

 

She wears one mask,

and under blue sky’s face, hers

is more calm, a pacific tide beneath

waves that pull me close.

 

She wears one mask,

contours her face embosses in the air,

with veiled smile, easy affection, like

some curtain drawn in warm embrace.

Eyes that linger do arrive.

 

She wears one mask,

and in the twinkle of her eye,

that moment when I turn my gaze,

she transforms, lets go the chrysalis

gauze of draped desire, which

I undo silk by silken breath.

 

She wears one mask,

lips like leaves she stirs the wind,

takes me within hushed embrace,

till begins this apple bloomed,

Am I the leaf or the wind?

 

And behind each mask unmasked,

the one who wears us both, radiant.

 

 

Neil Reid © 1997