YANA

it was probably a cobra
The one we used to call the Barber snake

it was probably that snake
That brought the plague to our city, elephantinus

I don’t know how the infection jumped from snake to man
But the pain would start at the bottom of the spine

then it would come up all the way to the neck
And you’d be feeling like a postbag for some serious amount of time

the disease wasn’t deadly. It was a plague manqué
However its victims would lose their resemblance to themselves

even the voice was lost. The smell
That was all lost, forever

even that particular spark of the eye
That was replaced with something more mineral-like

like gold
Like salt

people subsequently wore masks
So family members and friends could recognize each other

there were beautiful masks
there were ugly, and devilish masks

our mayor at the time, the unpopular Tyn uk Bla’h
Was once offered a mask with the likeness of a sinister hog. Ha! ha! ha!

. . .there was a special mask for the postman
And one for the roundsman, and one for the doctor, etc.

there was a special mask for every important job and people
But after a while everybody started trading masks

the result was an extraordinary mess
Anyone could pretend to be anybody else

then even those who had not yet fallen sick
They tried everything they could to catch the disease

one guy put a barber snake in his hat
And died

so there were left a few immune individuals
They became nervous, and shit, yeah!

one night, we killed everyone of those
Except . . .one good Peret Gosrip

Peret was a rich man, and he had a sailboat, the Linchpin
He was always very articulate, and he had a good voice

he saved his life with this idea:
That we needed someone to represent us here or abroad

because not everybody among the other people
Would trust a mask

so they decided to let Peret live on his sailboat
He had to wear a mask when he could come to visit me

otherwise little children upon seeing him would run away
Screaming - - - they were frightened by his face, you see?

they didn’t like the body, his odour
But the face, Peret’s very own resemblance, that was too much for them

so I made two masks for him
One to put on when he was feeling good, and the other one

that situation went on and on
Until everyone dropped their masks (the children too)

by the time, most of us had settled for a new form or resemblance
Like that of a broom or a fire fighter truck

me, my name was Yana
I chose to turn myself into a simple silver spoon

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Yana by reading_is_dangerous]