Some of the Dolls Hide in the Basement
The doll with the ripped off leg
can’t ride the rocking horse
unless she sits on someone’s face.
The doll with the body like a deformed skink
lurks in the corner near the mice,
tries to avoid the traps.
The doll whose owner used to
hand stitch her clothes until
that owner decided to cut off all the doll’s fingers.
The doll with the stick figure heart
written on her torn shirt
and then erased.
The doll whose broken head begs for sanctuary
as she lives inside the garbage can, un-bagged,
praying she won’t get completely thrown away.
Some of them were thrown down the stairs by others.
Some of them threw themselves down.
Some of them were shaken and dragged
by the mouths of dogs, smell like filthy
dried out saliva mixed with blood stains.
The dolls with eyes that will never be put back together.
By Juliet Cook
Juliet Cook is brimming with black, grey, silver, purple, and dark red explosions. She is drawn to poetry, abstract visual art, and other forms of expression. Her poetry has appeared in a peculiar multitude of literary publications. You can find out more at www.JulietCook.weebly.com.