Ugliness Hides

Ugliness Hides


Ugliness hides behind a mask,
not the one everyone thinks of in
today's pandemic world,
but the invisible one
right there in plain sight.

It hides behind the artfully decorated:
the one of painted-on beauty
the one that is scum deep.

Not on the face of the exhausted
mother with the tired child,
who comforts, quietly cajoles
the tears away, replaced with a giggle
and they both halfway smile.

But on the woman-child
with lashes an inch long,
skinny jeans and three-inch heels,
long blond hair which she artfully flips
as she pockets earrings at the jewelry counter.

Not on the face of the policeman
who sits on the curb, grey with pain,
and bleeding. Nonetheless,
comforts a screaming little boy
while they pry his dad out of the rolled car:
the gun, still hanging from bent fingers.
The jaws of life came up empty.

But on the man in the parking lot,
with his cute dog on a leash,
knocking on car windows
who says he needs help
and then tries to steal the car
when someone attempts to be nice.

Not on the face of the lady
who'd been on her feet for twelve hours
directing people where we went to get
vaccinated. When she smiles,
you could see it through her mask
because that smile went clear to her eyes.

Ugliness hides behind masks
that don't hang from ears
or have cartoon characters
with toothy smiles.
Ugliness hides behind masks
never designed to save lives,
but to harm them.
Even the executioner's mask
of days gone by
wasn't as ugly.