Masked Fall, poetry by Holly Woodward at
Holly Woodward

Masked Fall

Masked Fall

written by: Holly Woodward



Stock prices are falling
to simulate dead leaves.
Telemarketers are calling
in place of flying geese.

At Prada’s fashion show,
tattered black skirts flutter
in fake wind fans that blow.
Leaves of news clog the gutter.

Most New Yorkers wear masks
of paint the whole year long,
and nobody sane asks
if there is something wrong.

One cold, dark day a year,
some souls take their masks off,
raising long-hidden fear.
The rest scream and run off.

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