Cosmetic Masquerade
Laura De Palma // November 10, 2011
And the ghosts in your eyes
do their long-legged, chaste parade.
Each time such sadness
hushes me: slow
(from Dennis Lee’s “Coming Becomes You”)
cover your face
with makeup,
paint on your lipstick,
slather on your blush
coat it in layers
to perfect the disguise.
the shade of neon pink
clashes with your pale skin,
your jet black curls, your sighs,
and the ghosts in your eyes.
comb on your mascara,
making spidery lashes that
clump and cling to each-other
in blackest black desperation
a new formulation
that will never, ever fade.
they stretch up to your forehead
and scrape your eyebrows
where the lashes in a designer shade
do their long-legged, chaste parade.
conceal your blemishes,
remove your flaws,
airbrush them into oblivion
with skin-coloured creams
to buff away pores
and contour the flatness
of your cheekbones.
every brush stroke camouflages
your fallible canvas:
each time such sadness.
your mask is complete
with your lips contorted
and your eyes disfigured
by chemicals that
are touted by editors
to be the “best in show”.
your fresh face transformed
into mannequin plastic;
your murder of transcendent glow
hushes me: slow
