losing our grip on purpose

By Crystal Taylor

Acting is a craft we never master,
yet we mask ourselves, masquerade
with arms fatigued, holding glittered feathers
glued to plastic over our cheeks.

We zip screens over desks
where our heads work and swim,
wheel them both into meetings on a wagon,
always scanning, miming others.

Screens split, at first an inch.
Our methods slip through like flies.
Each one, a stimming quirk:
a bulky body bouncing off a ballast,

its shadow backlit by fluorescence.
Like that, the masquerade ends,
our mask spills a slow spin down,
eludes our clutch.

There.
Bare faced.
The glitter flickers freckles, brighter than any ball.

Crystal Taylor (she/her) is a poet from Texas. Her recent and upcoming work lives in Rust & Moth, ONE ART, Ghost City Review, Knee Brace and other sacred spaces. Her disabilities do not stop her one bit. That is a lie, but writing helps. Crystal is active on most social media platforms.