Salon Masks

A mirror reflects a wig
draped over a synthetic head.

A girl appears
and sits sedately nearby.

She smiles
as she combs the russet hair.

Her own is dark
and clasped from behind.

Stretched taut and sleek
forming a bun.

A tailored suit
embraces her shape.

A neatly tied scarf
encircles her neck

Trim waist
flared hips and pretty face.

Unconcerned it seems
by the face below.

She snips the hair
as though it were alive.

Her day over
She rises and departs the glass.

Untended
the wig hangs desolate and limp.

Until caressed
and moulded by the sun.

Soothing, warming
it cannot bring to life.

The image
of a synthetic head.