The Land of Ice and Vine: Poems

The She in the Corner

Last night I felt the sheets move 

and the Past slipped into bed with me

for a while we lay there, shoulder to shoulder

hip to hip

like twins, but

she wearing the younger face

and I turning away from the moonlight

She asked me about the doll I sewed for you

and stuffed with tangible bits of history

from shoeboxes

an old pair of roller skates,

grade reports, ticket stubs,

a plastic prize from a candy machine

stuffed her and set her in the corner

where you could see her and dress her

in convenient clothes

the out-dated clothes of yellowed-bent photographs

set her there so you could know where she was

always 

without fail

this doll of my Past

this version of me

And I told her that this doll,

well, she does look something like us

except with clear, straight lines

a quiet heart and

a pink smile stitched tightly into the fabric of her face

that is nothing like her

this Past that lies next to me at night

there is something not quite right

about her hands and her ankles

as if she carries a knowingness there

she is bigger than me, you see

she could crush me if she chose

Could your doll do that,

with her pale little dresses and curly

yarn hair? 

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This was written as an adult from the prompt "a doll that is more than it seems'.