Paper Doll

From an early collection of works, 1989-1999. This poem is from the first book of 3, entitled "Conception"

As I remove my lips

to bare my teeth in your direction,

the mirror

- the one that no one ever looks into

directly -

catches my reflection

and holds on.

 

Held hostage by design,

I can clearly see

my gleaming skull

cut out from this

torn skin -

 

like the ghost of

a crumpled paper doll

found in some musty corner

of an attic trunk.

 

Faded and yellow

I shudder

and scratch

to make sure that I still bleed.

 

Then, having paid the mirror it's ransom

of horror, guilt and pride,

I turn the page -

 

the sweet salty taste of mortality

on my toungue.

 

 

 

Reviews

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Wow, such a powerful write, well expressed emotions. This is deep!