The Veil
by Denise Dumars
I covered my face
To hide the holes
Of the rotting timbers
That stood up to time.
Like a ceaseless sentry
Emboldened by battle,
The rotted wood escaped my veil,
The bones and flesh lost to gravity.
I covered my head
To hide the patches
Where hair and scalp
Came out in gouts
Of crumbling flesh and spidery strands
My crowning glory lost to time.
Now no one asks me
Why I wear the veil
My hands of livid deadflesh tell
Of frightful eras lost to memory.
Oh, but I do hide it well!