Disguised Emotion

I forget to cover my mouth sometimes

under the mask i yawn like a child,

i hide surprise

and my lips when they tremble,

my fear when it rears,

my dry lips, licked.

i sneeze into this fabric –

it’s weird but i don’t know what else to do with it.

i think you can see my mouth when it moves,

then i wonder if i’m being trained to speak louder,

suddenly i’m at school,

repeating the demanded social gestures,

asked to speak louder and clearer,

to stop in doorways and enunciate better.

this would have been a greater tool –

‘imagine i can’t hear you at all!’

back.

i wonder what you can gauge from my eyes

behind this chunky new frame –

can you see hope, and gratitude?

fear and nerves,

the same way you would when my smile drooped?

do we even see each other?

or do we pay more attention

now there’s less to look at,

less facial expressions

to have to interpret?

i hide the quality of my skin

behind my mask sometimes

i’m glad it’s there but sometimes

i smile and forget you’ve got no idea.