A hiss marked the moment

Of the dissolution within

Blanched images of featureless heads

We breathed / we clawed / we panted

From the depths of unsung parameters
From the blue strictures of freedom

As we lost face

Mouth / eyes / nose—tenebrous—

Gone

The geographic contours on our heads

Hair / ears—crepuscular—
Vanished

Masks couldn’t hold us—
Our disappearance complete

“I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”

— T. S. Eliot / “The Wasteland”