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When we wear a mask, who do we become?

I have a mask
of fool’s gold
layered leaf upon leaf
it reflects words like moonlight
starry smiles and moistured eyes

My grandfather had a mask
of canvas
brilliant Welsh artist
skirt chaser
conscientious WWII objector

My mother’s mask
is papier mâché
self-flagellating failure
pen & ink sketcher
could do better

The ribbons of our masks are
made of iron
they slip awhile but cannot be untied
soldered in the spotlight of life
we know not what lies behind

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