MASKING THE COIN

The masks hang on the hat stand
There are several
They look much alike
In one, the eyehole is small
In the other, the lips
The glare of the world is stark

Each time the door swings out
Onto the kerb
One of the masks falls into place
Choosing the right one is an art
A flip of the coin
A phantom in the opera
The world is well masked

When the gong beckons
And the footfalls reverse
There is not a need
To return the mask to the stand
The pillow knows the face