I shall come with a handpainted Face. Soft brushes of colors Outrageous. Red of hibiscus, bronze And green of lizard skin. I shall wear antique clothes Purpled darkly in the swirling Twilight. This hair scrunched By a dozen-fingered wind. Laughter bellowing, my musty years-old cloak. For a prop, Li, the real Gentle orphan black cat. But they will never see what I carefully hide: broomstick Of thoughts with which I often travel And trespass the forbidden passageways, Cauldron in this brewing heart, Passion fresh gold as hot tea. Into the door, I shall walk Without caution, dressed fully As Myself.

South and Central Asia

To a WP-VOF Costume Party

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