“Nicole Kidman’s wigs”

exhale

for her. Today 

Nicole chooses to wear

her own hair. Loops

of frizzy red reaching 

for sun. 

When the wigs moved 

from Tom’s house 

they were afraid 

she’d forget them.  

Nicole signs the papers now. 

The wigs imagine what

she’ll do after. 

Will she weep?

Or maybe she’ll drive to 

the Santa Monica Pier—

ride the roller coaster 

til she pukes. Or maybe 

she’ll turn her face to the sun 

and shake its warmth onto her hands. 

Nicole gets home.

She sits on the edge of her bed

eyeing the wigs 

and considers they 

can be a protection 

from anything—

anyone. 

Nicole Kidman

exhales 

for herself. It has been

so long. 

The wigs rustle 

in the warmth 

of Nicole’s wind breath.