Ballizio. Papier-machêd masks
that resemble the Chinese zodiac.
The dancers swap them at will,
toss them across the fire
as if they were water balloons.
One is never sure who is monkey,
who cat; three-card monte
with pas-de-deux. Who is who
in the end does not matter;
when money extends hands,
the pull is too much; you join.
About the Author
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Collective Unrest, Cough Syrup, and Blood & Bourbon, among others.