CC Bloom Poet Free verse

A Russian Doll on a Blue Marble

I have crafted
the weight and worth
of my own words.
I have learned to disregard
rather than consider,
 the babble and nonsense
of louder voices 
in the world.  

This little blue marble
of a precious planet
is a crowded cacophony
of sound that doesn’t
count in the universe,
I bet.  

How can it be blue
when I look up?
They tell me
that space is dark
and will swallow me up,
like a fly in a whirlpool.

I am a Russian doll.
My severe hard-set face
of wood was drawn 
with precision.

Turn me around and love
my dress of intricate
pretty patterns.  

Inside is a smaller me,
less detailed, less real.
I have a smaller doll inside
my second self, and she
is less defined.  

Find my smallest doll.
You don’t get a prize.
Just a small piece
of painted wood 
where a soul can
find a home.

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