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  • Writer's pictureLammergeier Staff

(A) Tragedy Mask | A. Martine

‘This might be a new way of seeing the world.’

Or no: I’m just the Fool stepping off that

gleeful cliff, with a chin check aimed at

precipices. It was a gaffe at first: now

I’m willfully misplacing my glasses and

testing the day ahead. Do I evade better

when fear is blurred? I am optimistic.

I even tell myself ‘see it (not see, sorry)

as a blessing in disguise: hallucinations

gone fuzzy, baobab-carved body gone vague

in reflections. You won’t even know where

to start. Every which way you cast glances,

a gouache landscape emerges, softens aversion,

and time has gone molasses.’ I even (disregarding

my flesh come tender with collected table

corner bruises) tell myself ‘I could get used

to this’ and ‘what more could I ask for?’:

knowing full well that is always the wrong question i am asking for even when i don’t know that i am and that is also the wrong answer the world i see may be all new but my eyes ajar people read into them the slithering beasts prowling making ripples if it can wait by god make it wait i cannot blame anyone for disbelieving i look disingenuous without the shades to bellify and cover for them my masks just don’t look the same and call more furiously to the truth

A. Martine is a trilingual writer, musician and artist of color who goes where the waves take her. She might have been a kraken in a past life. She's an Assistant Editor at Reckoning Press and co-Editor-in-Chief/Producer/Creative Director of The Nasiona. Her collection AT SEA, which was shortlisted for the 2019 Kingdoms in the Wild Poetry Prize is forthcoming with CLASH BOOKS. Some words found or forthcoming in: Déraciné, The Rumpus, Moonchild Magazine, Marías at Sampaguitas, Luna Luna, Gone Lawn, Boston Accent Lit, Cosmonauts Avenue.

Twitter: @Maelllstrom



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