from their silver webs.
The mask is raw and red as bark against your facebones.
You finger the stripes ridged like weals
out of your childhood. A wind is rising
in the north, a scarlet light
like a fire in the sky.
When you look through the eyeholes it is like falling.
Night gauzes you in black. You are blind
as in the beginning of the world. Sniff. Seek the moon.
After a while you will know
that creased musky smell is rising
from your skin.
Once you locate the ears the drums begin.
Your fur stiffens. A roar from the distant left,
like monsoon water. You swivel your sightless head.
Under your sheathed paw
The tone changes a fairly large amount here because it transitions to describing the ritual itself more than the effects of wearing the mask, which is just part of the ritual. 
 This describes something else one would only experience, or in this case hear, if they had the mask on, in the form of the drums used to dance to during this ritual.
Tiger Mask Ritual