Swizzle Stick

Portrait of a Lady

April 20 — Book report — subtly (or overtly) incorporate a book report or response into a poem about something else. (If you name the book, avoid spoilers!)

My mask for public spaces is itchy,
inconvenient, & an imperative.
Behind its black beak I can mouth the words
of every song in my headphones, lip-sync
with quiet conviction. In those moments
of irritation that will happen in public
spaces, I might stick out my tongue,
or mouth expletives, & nobody knows about it.

Wearing a mask makes you a character,
with the mystery of the other face.
Here is a portrait of a lady:
Her mask had dropped for an instant,
but she had put it on again, to Ralph’s
infinite disappointment. He had caught
a glimpse of her natural face
and he wished immensely to look into it.

Metaphors aplenty lie behind a mask,
itchy, inconvenient, imperative.



Note: italics text by Henry James