doll in the attic
three little people scampered up the attic stairs
I followed more slowly, almost reluctantly
I am older, and have been here before
Fearful because of what I have felt up there
happy squeals of delight flow down to where I stand
I am about to take my last two steps
I enter cautiously, remembering the killer doll
disguised in blue ruffles and deceiving lace sleeves
Grandma, look at this! Grandma, what is this?
I explain things they have never seen – an iron, a victrola.
Grandma, look at this doll!
I turn.
There she is. The doll that used to terrify me
Staring brown glassy eyes giving me my worst nightmares
She has the same killer smile
I feel as terrified now as I felt sixty years ago
Can we take this stuff downstairs?
I start to say they can
Until one of them reaches for the dol
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