Masked and Hooded

Face in the dark
Like a shy girl, I stand,
masked and hooded,
bemused by the empty
street, waiting to learn
how to be
in this time.

Where is the answer
to the unformed question
hiding under the weight
of lost hopes?
Which way to turn
to nowhere?

There is no rushing,
only waiting
while fools seek blindness
for comfort,
and the wise
try not to weep.

Enough

By the midnight fluorescent flickering 
I wander bemusedly searching
for a meaningful
question
in this empty time.

The rain sweet breeze blows in the open window and,
as I breath,
my heart loosens, throbs, hesitates,
yearning to warm 
and accept the dark otherness
with its questions

without answers.

I am pulled to the dark lake
And the windblown moment:

And now is enough.

A Pandemic Series – My Red Lipstick

A Reposting of the Three Red Lipstick Poems, in Sequence

These three poem-videos belong in this sequence, not in the reverse order in which the blog displays them below, based on when I initially posted them.

1

My red lipstick is annoyed,
muttering behind my mask,
wanting an escape.

2

My red lipstick explains
shyly,
she is not annoyed;
she is afraid.

Afraid I will permanently abandon
her, and my rings,
and the new dress fluttering on its hanger. 

Now –
and for all the roiling days 
masked in the fog
of an un-normal future.

3

My Red Lipstick Mourns

My red lipstick mourns,
huddled in her drawer, 
as I mourn, too,
bare-lipped behind my mask.

Now – I groom for “meetings”,
my red lipstick appears,
digitally
trying to represent who I was.

I yearn for, mourn for,
the times I touched, hugged,
and groomed for,
locked away now,

My Red Lipstick Mourns

My Red Lipstick Mourns

My red lipstick mourns,
huddled in her drawer, 
as I mourn, too,
bare-lipped behind my mask.

Now – I groom for “meetings”,
my red lipstick appears,
digitally
trying to represent who I was.

I yearn for, mourn for,
the times I touched, hugged,
and groomed for,
locked away now,

like my red lipstick.