A have developed a fear of masks. I see them Everywhere I turn: Tributaries Of the River Tay that haunts my dreams Whenever I close my eyes. There are white ones, Black ones, Blue, pink, yellow and green ones. Ones in two colours Or bathed Riotous Chrysanthemums. They line the streets like mines. So, I dance on pavements: Cracks like gullies. They will swallow whole. A have developed a fear of masks. I see them Everywhere I turn.