taxidermy

The Poetry Bus is once again heading back to the Republic of EEjit.
The ticket for this particular bus must include taxidermy. Since it's
Valentine's weekend, EEj requested an extra dose of love, hate,
passion and angst. The ticket stirred some passion at the manor, but
not in a romantic sort of way.



Taxidermist



I was a doll
behind the sofa
who understood
the meaning of disgrace;

a dusty version of me,
who always looked good,
but had no thoughts,
no skinned knees,

just a row of stitches
where my heart
was removed
and replaced
by a rusty string
in the back of my head,

for an occasional please
or may I have some water?
No childish chatter,
not a thing out of place,
I was better than dead.

Safely mounted
on wood by a Norman Bates,
who without hurting a fly,
made me into a bust
installing glass eyes

so I could not cry,
laugh, or hate and behaved
as all saved
children must.


.
.
willow, 2010
.
.
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photo from flickr