To this harlequinade
I wear black tights and fool’s cap
Billiken, make me three bright masks
For the three tasks in my life.
Three faces to wear
One after the other
For the three men in my life.

When my Brother comes
make me one opposite
If he is a devil, a saint
With a staff to his fork
And for his horns, a crown.
I hope for my contrast
To make nil
Our old resemblance to each other
and my twin will walk me out
Without a frown
Pretending I am another.

When my Father comes
Make me one so like
His child once eating his white bread in trance
Philomela before she was raped. I hope by likeness
To make him believe this is the same kind
The chaste face he made,
And my blind Lear* will walk me out
Without a word
Fearing to peer behind.

If my lover comes,
Yes, when Seducer comes
Make for me the face
That will in color race
The carnival stars
And change in shape
Under his grasping hands.
Make it bloody
When he needs it white
Make it wicked in the dark
Let him find no old mark
Make it stone to his suave touch
This magician will walk me out
Newly loved.
Not knowing why my tantalizing face
Is strangely like the mangled parts of a face
He once wiped out.

Make me three masks.

— Virginia Moreno. Order for Masks.

Image by Zean Cabangis. 2011.

*Because what we choose to wear on any given day, is more complex, more violent, than a pair of high heels. Because the shoes we wear is but the tip of the iceberg, and any government office should know that.