whispers through the wall,
medium between woman and girl;
in their breath, it twists like Winter,
ballerina frost out in open air
hauling wall; her back steadfast.
who can say why an angel falls?
now she welcomes Winter
in feathered rags; a doll's shape,
X- X's for eyes that show the without-soul;
still cuddling lips;
inside's new skin's wrapped parts
out cold in your arms
You were my dog for a long time.
When you died, it felt like a crime.
It was six years ago tonight when you perished.
You were my Chihuahua and you were cherished.
About 10 P.M., I found you dead on the kitchen floor.
The pain that I felt was something I could not ignore.
I will say something that is 100 percent true.
You were my Baby Doll and I'll always love you.
[Dedicated to Agnes (2011-2020) who died six years ago tonight on July 11, 2020]
As a young child my mind goes back to Tom,
a pure dark gray old tom cat.
We went visiting in the town next door,
when Tom took up with me.
The neighbors said,
they had never seen him before.
We took him home,
giving him a bath then food and milk.
I dressed him up in my doll clothes,
then gave him a baby bottle of cold milk.
Tom was my real baby doll disguised as a cat,
and he loved it.
We both had many wonderful hours of fun,
as Tom got extra rubs with cold milk.
Susie Ann
I have a baby dolly her name is Susie Ann
I love my baby dolly and do everything I can
When my babies hungry she says baba
When my baby needs me she says mama
She closes her eyes and cuddles close to me
creepy boy doll walked out into the night
trying to scare up some business, a disheveled sight
two ghosts made fun of him, and he started to cry
He is creepy-looking, but a truly sensitive guy
An old witch with a caring heart
Ran after the ghosts and gave a fart.
Her wind was so rancid, they both fainted away.
They were carried off in short order by her crow Malay.
she was a doll in more ways than one
But is she fun? Someone asked. Is she fun?
I cannot be sure, but she is pretty and green.
And she is decorative on Halloween.
She has a verdant face, and a few stitched up booboos.
I cannot say whether she is lovely or rather bad news.
Because she does not speak to me, just nods her head.
I do lock her into a box when I get into my bed.
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.
let me lean into me winnings educate bout you Achilies so I can send you spinning, with threads strung on me limbs
thin thinner thinnest billyboard me insecurities it ain't an issue but it really hit a nerve now me is training, try me you will witness the power and maybe live to tell the tale
couldn't hand me a little peace handle me sweet though me not entitled, but it's a request
jelly jelly bout you lack of freely used cuss knowledge I love the impact and damage, one day might mirror it and die
"do things my own way darling" it ain't easy I don't got the capacity cause I choose to let you I choose to let you choose though you never respect me oh
darling smooth unshattered like the legs of a virgin sharp, and useless when throw down so never miss that instructing
when me is talking try not to butt in or push a button cause I'm random who knows I might charge you like bison one of kind but always on your mind like a floating web babe learn to respect me before I lose what's left of this me inside
She lives on my shelf
Older than me
Her wise eyes love on me
Gift from great grandmother
Pink little dress and black glassy ahoes
She is mine and I am hers
The walls were paper thin, I could hear the world breathe
And the sound of my father’s bags getting ready to leave
It was all too familiar, with tears on my sleeve
He was gone out the door like I couldn’t believe
My dad left a baby doll at the foot of my bed
I think of all the bedtime stories that wouldn’t be read
I think of my mom being on her very last thread
Barely hanging on, the only one making bread
Holding down two jobs just to keep us all fed
Containing the family fire before it could spread
The doll stayed smiling while the house fell apart
She was a plastic reminder of a cold blooded start
We were light in the pockets but heavy in the heart
My mother’s resilience was a silent work of art
Seeing a womanizing man and the back of his hand
They thought they could break her but there she still stands
Her maternal strength would color you impressed
Survival was the one thing that my mother did best
Breaking the generational curse is my new vow
So I carry her fire and I wear her wisdom now
The doll’s still smiling but the world is more still
A reminder that true strength can never be killed
the sunflower doll was from Holland of course
I could tell by the colors said the wise well-seasoned horse
the goats did not know what he was talking about
They did not ask any questions, instead gave a pout.
Blue and yellow are Dutch-like the horse told the pig
A smart animal who asked, and then gave a jig.
Asking questions is a sign that you are quite bright.
The goats continued to wonder, all through the night.
creepy staring doll
the hair raises on my neck
she terrifies me
O’, master–I’ve painted,
Painted all upon your
Wooden dolls.
Beneath the creases
Of this brush, I’ve stained–
Stained her rosy cheeks
Within these carnal thorns.
On my shredded canvas
His lover lays,
For she’s pierced–
Pierced herself
Upon my drying breaches.
And amidst these callused hands
She passes–
Passes into the arms
Of all my hidden silhouettes.
O’, master–please forgive me–
I’ve painted,
Painted all upon your
Wooden dolls.
when the lights dim the doll dances
enjoying her attic cell
terrifying the humans
there are reluctant footsteps
attic light is turned on
doll is frozen in place
giving away nothing
My fury for you is more than reasonable
I believe I’m healed until the seasons start to change
To the holidays
It creeps on, then suffocates me
Gasping for air yet again
Trying to catch myself before the walls cave in
To you, I was your play thing
Porcelain
A beauty with eyes grown cold
Your claws tainting my youthful soul
My beautiful skin
Dressed to your wishes
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