The Doll Doctor
He would mend and renew,
heal with glue, tack, and brush;
heads broken or blind
smiles cracked or erased, lips peeling.
Dolls bruised by too much love.
Some he brings back from dark places
their porcelain demons exorcised,
counter-curses sewn into scalp and labels.
At times he is more a fallen priest, secretly
wishing beautiful dolls could grow
into more adult dreams.
Then he would berate himself;
descend to his basement
to visit the forsaken,
the forever broken.
He stitches heavy winding sheets
about the irreparably maimed
and deformed,
so that the tortured
may not escape and turn to evil.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2019
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