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

Click on each poem to continue to the next.

This issue features 6 poems.