Facial Tiers

You think you know me well
but I’ve been hiding all these years;
the man in the iron mask,
the stranger at the Masked Ball,
throwing necklaces from the floats
at Mardi Gras;
Halloween year round.

My face is sewn on my skull
like a bad hair weave.
Rip the stiches out
only to find another mask
made from an outlaw’s bandana
or a clown’s greasepaint
or molded in papier mache’;
geological layers of faces
showing the ravages of time.
Still I want you to know me

so, when I lie dying
bring blackboard erasers to my bedside
and clap them together.
You will see a quick flash
of light flying through
the dust of white chalk motes.

Weigh my body before and after death.
you will notice a difference
of only twenty-one grams.

That was me.


Author: compasionatecritiques

Michael Eaton Bio Grew up in Littlefield TX and ran around with Waylon Jennings little brother. In high school lived and worked in a funeral home. First came to Austin in 1960 to attend UT. One year later enlisted in the Army. After serving came back to Austin and managed the Texas Theatre on the Drag. Was there when Whitman went on his killing spree from the Tower. Before completing school, decided to go to San Francisco State University. Moved there, and became a hippie living in a commune until graduation with a Masters in Creative Writing. Then came back to Austin and became partners in a stained glass studio, a business in which my eldest son is still involved in Houston. After two more children arrived, needed to make more money and became a new home salesman. Now retired. Recently have just completed conducting two poetry classes in assisted living centers for the elderly in Austin and Wimberley. I write poetry to stay sane in a sometimes insane world.

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