that was her name. The only doll I remember.
She was blonde and had big violet eyes
I asked my questions into. You could push a button
at her waist, pull her long ponytail from the top of her head
and change her hair length. Maybe it was this control I felt
yanking on her hair, changing the way she looked
anytime I wanted, about the endless power, or the long
bouts of snow out the window in the dead of winter
in upstate New York. Or the way
her tall, doll box still stood
in the corner, there anytime
I wanted to re-bury her.
She was blonde and had big violet eyes
I asked my questions into. You could push a button
at her waist, pull her long ponytail from the top of her head
and change her hair length. Maybe it was this control I felt
yanking on her hair, changing the way she looked
anytime I wanted, about the endless power, or the long
bouts of snow out the window in the dead of winter
in upstate New York. Or the way
her tall, doll box still stood
in the corner, there anytime
I wanted to re-bury her.
Author Bio:
Lisa Alexander Baron is the author of 3 collections of poetry including, Reading the Alphabet of Trees and Sting and Tell. Her ekphrastic poems have recently appeared in Chautauqua, Confrontation, U.S. 1 Worksheets, the Maier Museum of Art website, and will appear in Theodate of the Hill-Stead Museum. She holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts and is an adjunct professor of speech and English in the Philadelphia area.
RSS Feed