Masks

Was there something I wished to say?
Something that might move the conversation in a gentle way,
to less safe subjects that might engage our table of six
and animate beyond the masks we had affixed
to ward off penetration beyond our skin,
so none could see the person therein.

Why was I here listening to this bore
who assumed her audience held secure
to the truth she had fitted as a garment tied in place
by repetition of a mantra at a mind-numbing pace?

Neither “flight” nor “fight” tore me free.
I failed to do more then let it be,
acting the coward by not “making waves”
reducing myself to the part of a slave.
As if I could not rise, ball my hand
and still the fool who had taken command,
letting chaos reach passion’s level
allowing decorum to go to the devil.