by John A. Birt
it starts as a soft
gray powder with a
greenish hue.
Water is added to it,
forming into a thick
muddy liquid. Bubbles
form once its
core ingredient,
apple cider vinegar,
joins the mix. The once-gray
powder now becomes
a dark military green
paste that is ready
to be applied
to the face.
My fingers dip
into the mixture, a
creamy smooth texture
cools my fingertips.
The mudslide travels
from cheek to cheek.
Forehead to chin.
An unnatural disaster.
My nose slowly copes,
adjusting itself
to the aroma.
Far from pleasant.
A sweet but
stinging scent.
My eyes watering
slightly yet,
still clear enough
to see.
In the mirror
a slimy beast. A
caterpillar in a
cocoon.
My mind travels
to warmer days
when my sisters
and I reflected
each other’s striking
swampy appearance.
Our laughter
uncontained
as we forgot
the drying paste.
Mother’s left unfazed
as she knew better
than to entertain
our banter with
a few scoldings
and a mean face.
Now dried, the
cracked desert
pavement is ready
for excavation.
Just like my
mother taught me,
I soak my face
in the water and
scrub off the mask,
revealing my reddish
skin while I bask
in the benefits.
Chipped pieces
of the mask swirl
down the sink
drain and the
mask’s aroma fades
away. The hand soap
takes its place. For
a clearer face.
John A. Birt is a student at LaGuardia Community College majoring in Liberal Arts: Journalism. He has a passion for creative writing, digital design, and storytelling. Along with this, John enjoys finding a way to blend creative his outlets into one. In his free time, John writes poems, songs, and short stories focusing on various genres.
Photo, “Dried mud” by ikewinski (CC) by 2.0
