Behind The Mask Poem by Jolomi Amuka

Deep breath, lengthened neck,
The drum beat reflected in a single shrug.
Twenty two legs chanting like piggish hyenas,
Cursing murky hell with swift angelic strides.
Godly presence reminiscent of Louie the 14th,
As radiant as the morning's kiss;
With sunny lips, she was a soother of childish fears.

Extension of hands,
The first extension of man;
Pointing her blue eyes, as she reads beauty's blueprint with every turn;
Hoping every stretch blurs our worried thoughts.
Monks waltzing with breathing statues,
The nuance of intention;
A variation of time's training,
All glorified in a body of pulchritudinous movements.

They lean back and forth,
As discipline strangles fear's grotesque neck,
Like a dog pissing on the hydrant, ignorantly - yet convincingly aggravating the fire,
And she he does.
This is where it begins,
The be all and end all,
A paragon of her perfection.
This is heaven,
Where angels can freely dance with their demons.