Poetry

The old masks let me breathe through my nose and mouth but these masks are different

Poppy’s reading glasses were pink before pink was cool.

I feel my day evaporating. Who else might be missing cows?

Burnt orange background for warmth roundness, spirals, buttery pinwheels- nothing pointy or masculine.

The Notorious Supreme leans forward and points a finger and her starched stiff collar hints a warning hiss.

When I spoke his name Jake simply glanced at me.