Saturday, 6 April 2019


by Kathy Duby

Beneath the surface of what you know
is what you think you know.
Beneath my surface is a mask,
then ten more.
Beneath these lies a facade
a smiley-face.
Underlying that insincere grin
rests a foot-thick layer of concrete,
sound barrier and emotional barrier.
This is my rock and upon this rock
I have built my life.
Under the impenetrable rock
lies a waterproof membrane.
This is where the crying stops.
Under the silent crying
lie dozens of sedimental strata
each one labelled truth.
Historical truth, hysterical truth,
Societal truth, familial truth,
False truth, real truth, biting truth.
Beneath the teeth of frozen truth
seethes a boiling mass of
putrid ooze.
The secrets.
This is where the crying starts.
But no one hears, no one sees.
All is calm, all is bright.
Until, one day,
Krakatoa, Pompeii.