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Masquerade












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MASQUERADE
a poem by Mark Palermo
 
 
 
I.
I am 51 this year.
I'll say it,now 
Say it once and for all,
for I have lost my tongue,
misplaced my spectacles,
mislaid my pen.
Only the blunt edges
of my anger
and my regret remain.

Patterns, playbacks,
fast forwarded years,
Funny how I have come to hate
the things that gave me comfort
when I was in darkness.














































filmnoir2.jpg

II.
Still I remain
on rainy Tuesdays
in shadows
in a personal kingdom
of harlequin masks
a prisoner in a hall of mirrors
the knower in me
a masterful deceiver
and rewriter of scripts.

Reduced by denials,
worn down by worries
of worms and wars
and the constant threat
of accidental ecstasy.