Everyday Masks
They've held you like the night before a storm. A whistle blows. The shades rattle huddled in the aftermath of thunder that sends a message from the place of death. He knows us. The very number of hairs on our heads. Giveth and taketh away. He has no disguise. We mock him as if he were a fool who counts his money several times a day. There are only bones beneath our masks. We are so much like him. We smile, look over our shoulders, shame him. He must be the loneliest of us all. Billy Howell-Sinnard This poem was written in response to the surprise ekphrastic I See a Darkness challenge. Billy is a hospice case manager, visual artist, and poet. He's had numerous first, second, and third place wins at IBPC (InterBoard Poetry Community). His poem, Hospice Nurse, won second place for poem of the year for 2014-2015. Several of his poems have been published in anthologies and at online poetry sites.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This site uses cookies to deliver your best navigation experience this time and next. Continuing here means you consent to cookies. Thank you. Join us on Facebook:
December 2024
|