My Mask and Cloak

Like Quasimodo,

I emerge

from the

darkness to

shrieks and screams

of “freak” and

the casting of stones

and animal bones and

rotten vegetables.

But that

is not tomato juice

which covers me

but my own blood.

So you hand me

a mask and a cloak

and say “hide

yourself. This is

Safe.”

But safety

is not what I

feel when what I need

is you to bathe

me and bandage my

wounds.

You are my keeper.

You keep me locked

away. You keep me

as your ugly secret.

The deformed freak.

The grotesque monster

hidden away in a tower.

You mention

me to no one

and tell me

it’s better

this way.

I see

you with your

suitress.

You take her out around

the town in such

public displays

so everyone can

see how happy you

are and I grow

envious in my

self-loathing.

Though I washed

your feet and held

your hand in

private I’ve never

known your love

the way she does.

Though I loved

you for longer

you will never

tell anyone.

As I watch you

run away

with her

I come out of

the dark and

allow the light

to hit me

little by little.

But I still wear my

mask and cloak.

I tell myself

“This is safe.

It’s better

this way.”

-Jo Resner 5/3/19