smoky hallway

The smoky hallway
lies
empty
once more.
The flashing lights
only flicker,
only sometimes.
Masks, strewn
across the floor,
everywhere.
Some broken,
some chipped,
some never used before,
some never to be used
again.
You ask me if I
have a mask.
I don’t know –
there are no mirrors
on the walls –
they were broken
in a storm.
The only mirrors left
are where the masks
should have eyes
but the masks
are not mine
to touch.