The dawn also sets
as the rising pertains
to the flowing garden
of our strictest dissolution.
I painted you this evening.
You are my most recent victim
and I shudder to think of your energies.
I alight the doomsday clock
with phantasms of joy.
Your seeming-face is unrecognizable.
I turn to the nocturnes of the birds
and their hour is fine as sand.
2 thoughts on “In the wake of the criminal hour by Dustin Pickering”
“your seeming-face is unrecognizable”—I LOVE this line! It’s a unique way of stating that we are not our emotions while pointing out the impertinence of emotions. There is no permanent state of being. That is, if I’m reading what you intended to convey. If not, kudos still, because I quite like my possible misinterpretation. Lol. It’s got my mind achurnin’. Lol!
The poem is about a killer re-imagining his victim after the murder. That line is indeed about the concept of mask as you suggest.