The rag doll sleeps until he picks her up and she
dances on his feet and kisses his lips;
but she isn't playing with the sway of her hips;
her heart is stale in his hands.
The dolly won't fall down until he lets her go and she
won't miss a step until he spreads her legs;
but she stays silent and patient and groans back when he groans,
and her belly is growing in size.
So she dries her insides with the vinegar salt and she
retches her guts on the bathroom floor;
but she won't think beyond herself and won't look beyond the now,
and her baby doll boils in her blood.
"Doctor, sing her a lullaby;
she looks so frigid and pale."
"Mama, buy her a mockingbird;"
her smile is so broken and void."
