Restoration
July 21 2025
by Mark Kikot
The masks I’ve worn while looking for my face
Now hang like pictures time has veiled with dust;
Yet still they search my eyes and try to place
The roles they had in dreams I learned to trust.
Their features find in me a mixed review
Like gaudy joy cast in Venetian light,
That darkens quickly to the sombre hue
Of Florentine submission to the night.
Confronted by this hot and crowded room,
I do my best to make a breathing space
And speak a line or two to those for whom
A life is something death cannot erase:
“We rise above an antiquated yoke
With face beatified…and grace Baroque.”
January 29, 2020