Masks Poem by Sheena Blackhall

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