Poem Wright

Poem Wright

Doll Parts

An arm in the darkened kitchen corner,
a leg in the yard, under the old oak tree.
My plastic-molded, smiling face
grinning stupidly under the bed.
Dust bunnies collect in my blonde hair;
doggy chew marks puncture my sea-blue eyes.
How can tears streak my cheeks?
The cold draft from the floor vent
makes my teeth ache.
Without you, my plastic joints are stiff;
I had no energy to fight off the dog.
Grief took my soul; anguish ruptured my heart—
Why should I care about dog spit?

Susan A. Wright

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