BLACK RABBIT MASK

She looks as if a classical portrait once ran away at night and put on someone else’s head. The black mask with ears keeps the face hostage, but the gaze still lives its own life. The lacquer shines like a fresh thought you shouldn’t trust. The cheeks remember the powder of past centuries, and the lips know secrets you don’t go to jail for. In this silence there is neither play nor shame — only a neat absurdity, signed by time and left to dry.