Friday, 30 December 2016

The Skate

To celebrate the end of days
I paste strips of papier maché
across my face and soon have
a mould-cum-mask which after
an hour I peel off and leave to dry
beside the skate on the table
before painting it pasty pink
then adding hair even greyer
than actuality as a parody
of my own accursèd selfie
and then I prop up the skate
with its nervous smile and tail
in its lap like it’s wringing
its hands but I find no evidence
of a mermaid’s purse to which
my mask was really an offering.

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