Masks

Masks are part of life’s carousel of encounters A girl’s dark hair hangs either side of her face Like curtains on the wings of a hushed stage Her narrative’s yet un-played Who is she? What are her needs? Her face is moon-like, a Halloween pumpkin Fixed smile and gleaming teeth (So white, so bared and eager) Her brother’s beard is Assyrian All ticks and curly follicles His eyes are diamond sharp Could cut to the bone Their mother has the face of a plate Wiped clean by many washings Her eyes have been rubbed away By the drudge of years Her mouth’s a weathercock For all the familial seasons Tick tock, her tongue Is chiming out the hours