Behind The Mask

Behind The Mask

I can see her
like a ghost
through these sixteen years.

She comes riding
across sand and ashes
on a North Carolina
ginger mare.

I sometimes see
painted wagons
behind her
sixteen banners
flutter in the breeze.

These images
then fade
like the memories
I've been hiding.

Behind the mask
shielded from tomorrow.
Behind the mask
I can conceal my sorrow.

Across the swamp
we were separated
from the years of crying
and being elated.

We three worked
at the baseball factory
while we lived
with my cousin Jenny.

Behind the mask
we worked
in the powder room.
Behind the mask
in that
smoky factory gloom.

The new year
rolled around
we found peace
in this small town.

Far away
from her mother
watching detectives
sent by her father.

Behind the mask
I still recognize her.
Behind the mask
still surprised
at the allure.

-Will Dockery (8-2-20)