you can

you can wear a surgical mask
          skin-coloured it might melt onto your lips in time,
 you can speak without bastardizing consonants,

                               you can go without speaking:
                       one tap for yes - two short ones for no - one long/mounting silence for

 overwhelmed - let go or let's go

                       ,you can be a geisha

                                         you can be a masseur
                                you can be an autopsist
                     you can be a vulture

you can wear a plague doctor mask (in shame),
           swivel en pointe in an empty rehearsal room

letting the silks unfurl,
                                      unfurl,
                                                        unfurl,

          indigo haze into the faces of a nonexistent audience

you can try and step onto the stage;

  you will have to become aware of the reality
                              of the mask
and the awkwardness of consonants,
comforted by the texture
                 of saliva-soaked cotton

like a blind horse
     led away from its clammy stable
through a series of sterile rooms;

                 repeating,
                                      repeating,
repeating.