A SNOWFALL IN VENICE AT CARNIVAL TIME

Long, large gowns dragging white mulch along with their hems,

eyes darting ritual sparks behind masks in swirls of white,

another whirlwind of picturesque laughter for the umpteenth postcard home,

while corteges of masks strew on, strew on, it’s their task and song,

gazing, disguising, cruising on this very life’s lace surface,

I wonder..( wondering is what I have been doing most as a ghost-host)

I wonder if faces love just being hidden at all costs

or if they would rather prefer being definitively lost…

but it’s this white quilt rising underfoot that recalls the last hiding post.