The Doll Collector's Daughter

Written by: Gwendolen Rix

In the depths 
of my stomach
a nauseating doom    
an uneasy feeling
a heart-pounding gloom

Aligned and ornate like an Easter morning choir    
were hundreds of collectibles my mother admired 
She called it “The Pink Room” with its Victorian style   
porcelain beauties etched with paranormal smiles 

She twirled 
and waltzed 
and giggled 
for their pleasure...

not knowing these antiques were Lucifer’s sweetest treasures

Shirley Temples, Alexander’s, and Chatty Cathy’s too
with your back turned to them
glossy eyes glared at you

Mechanical spheres
realistic eyelashes blinking

my curious mind pondered the evil they were thinking…

In the quiet of the night ….
             when our house lie still….
                              beyond the pink room’s door…
                                                     were faint evil shrills.

Written for Contest "Big Brother-Someone's Watching You and Why"-1st place
Black-eyed Susan

(Susan, this poem had less than 16 lines in its original format, but I displayed the lines differently for effect.)