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IN VOGUE
The fashion mask on the cover of a magazine
and the black swirl of the icon turning to you
and her assassin’s smile as she cuts off your life
with closed and practised eyes.
She switches you off at source as easily
as they will turn you off to make you a statistic,
a target not met, an anecdote, or, in the right hands,
even a warning for the perplexed.
Go on. Hand over the price of a slab of frozen milk,
keep your gaze from the carrot cake, good for the eyes,
and, in the safety of a room, take out scissors,
to cut out your mask. Cut out. Your mask.
Philip Wilson
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