doll baby

“blood is so interior” 
-T. McTague



dinner dishes stacked up
empty as a windshield             chest spaced
tell me again how this feels right for here: it feels nothing
bird brained be a quiet face
sit & smile, be a frozen blink
all the doll eyes were my eyes, I ate their grins
I ate their pretty painted lashes
I swallowed their pinklipped snarls
took bites of hard cheeks till they were mine
put my thumb in 
wanted to be your little stuffing
pliable arm, leg & hole
for the draining when we swim side by side siblings
buoyant and barely breasted
baby faced or face too grown: doll lucky
wanted to host tea parties of veins and mace
hang you by the prettiest yarn or take your head
to make a picture, hard shell of ear where you ignore 
the screaming: whore baby, you cuntless prize 
swallow the lumpy poison meat 
my baby doll’s eye the bluest of the plastic blues
burns_2.html

Click on each poem to continue to the next.


This issue features 6 poems.

---<----@