That the mystery is masked
is given. Names are tried on and discarded.
No one name will answer.
A breeze might brush your face,
just after sunset on the equinox, say.
It leaves a mark, a scar.
No ritual can bring that back,
with its kiss of dangerous knowledge.
The mark is always invisible on your face.
Each day you watch the breeze of your breath
and try to tune your hollow soul
so that mystery can play you like a flute.
Mark J. Mitchell studied writing at UC Santa Cruz. His work has appeared in the anthologies Good Poems, American Places, Hunger Enough, Line Drives, and In a Gilded Frame . He is the author of a chapbook, Three Visitors and a novel, Knight Prisoner (both available on Amazon). A full length collection, Lent 1999 is due from Leaf Garden Press. He lives in San Francisco with his wife, the documentarian Joan Juster.
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