i go to watch my inocence
like a zoo creature. she is cutting
the heads off babies & making them
into offerings. she is picking flowers
& feeding them to angels.
the dollhouse is always a place
without one wall. that is what
i was born into. a door off its hinges.
wing dissected from bird. feathers
i tried to stuff into the seams.
the flashlight i used when it was
a father night. how lightning bugs
knocked on the windows & said,
"are you plastic yet?" they wanted to know
if i was alright. my dolls
were hollow which is to say i did
not have them. they were bundles
of sticks & a match stick box.
i have always cared for discarded
girls. gabage girls & race track girls
& gasoline girls. she bakes a plastic pie.
the pie is perfect in the way only
the artifical can be. let's replica
what we never had. pretending to eat.
how long, little animal,
have you pretended to eat?
i have most of my life. the viewer
pretends there is a wall
where there is none in the dollhouse.
the occupants do not.