Masks 2


by Mark Parsons


Like a roll-down shutter
Security door
For a storage unit,

 

Or hole-in-the-wall
That’s closed for the night,
But instead of the few possessions

 

Of a guy
Who’s getting divorced
And losing his house and child,

 

Or a standing bar
In a neighborhood
Where the rent’s sky-high,

 

Locked inside
Is a fifties sci-fi, low budget movie
Or comic book

 

Monster—
Maybe a species of alien,
Or result of an out-of-control experiment,

 

Or nuclear accident,
Or repressed unconscious desires and drive
Manifested

 

By an actor wearing a rubber suit and
Assaulting the door from inside,
So the cotton pleats,

 

Peaked and pinched,
Bow and bulge,
Gravid white.


 

Mark Parsons’ poems have been recently published or are forthcoming in Ex Pat Press, Dreich, Cape Rock, and I-70 Review. He lives in Tokyo, Japan.