Keeping Something Up Your Sleeve

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Why wear the makeup, make believe,

as though our greasy paint deceives,

or knuckle dusting wipes away

sight, site when being secretive?

A statement made by sheltered tongue

beside ears pricking, mouth agape?

Yes there’s foreboding, those pricked thumbs,

bewitched by whirl, whorl imprint stained.

A stagecraft, though who’s cast away

is doubtful, scene seen by fourth wall -

dramatic irony in deed -

for motive, message in the eyes.

Here’s cheek, not cheerful, in their guise,

guys used to plotting one’s demise;

taut temple, what you should believe -

the weakest link, defending thought.

If ever prompt was unrequired,

hear here, as words recalled, conspired;

no limelight, nor soliloquy,

but body language speaks to deaf.

So why the mask, masque playing ball?

Pause in applause at curtain call,

with new reviews, unsatisfied?

Is this a Revenge Tragedy?

An open book at read-through stage

but now unscripted frame-up framed?

How does the vest link with the sleeve?

Full picture here we do not see.

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