Masks are coming down
and people I’ve known for a year
look different now.

It was nice to know people by their eyes,
winking, crowfoot eyes, puffy eyes,
sad eyes, flashing, daring eyes.

And now the nose, self righteous
in its immobile ways, like a tent,
flaring with disgust, or with injustice,
on a hillside to be studied, or ignored,
a statue waiting to be judged.

Lips and teeth and smile?
I don’t want to show my mouth and teeth,
broken and crooked from poverty.
What if they were private,
like Victorian knees and ankles?
We could hide our mouths forever,
learn to speak through decorated cloth
like kites charging through the sky.
Dang these people anyway.

I know you think you’re cute,
all nose and eyes, and teeth,
but the pandemic isn’t over yet.
Put your masks back on.