The Mask Through Which You See Me

By Berlin St. Croix


I pluck off your mask and
put it on. The porcelain cools
my skin. My eyes
chill behind smooth alabaster.

The world through peephole view
is emerald vivid.
And me, a remote viewer, contemplating
the ridiculous human passion play
that surges, flawed pink
down murky, trash-strewn streets.