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The Doll
the Town is quiet now
they all left in a long Train
Of suffocating wooden cars
…some were crying. my heart cringes to see grown Men
cry.
maybe Tears are evidence that they are inferior
but I don’t
Understand
just today
the rest of us played,
now they tramp through the Dust to where?
now they board the boarded-Up cars…
now they give up Hope as the train-wheels squeak
a Girl in the crowd
held a doll, a sack-doll, a rag-tag cloth Doll
With beaded eyes and pink Cheeks
I Watched her pass watched her care-Worn eyes too old
her yellow Star burning a hole in her breast
more deadly
than a thousand
angry Guns
she dropped the doll in the
bustle, trample, pell-Mell
whirlwind
bent to pick it up
A shot rings
out.
No explanation,
just the whimpers of
her mother
as
she
rots and spoils
in the
Heat.
the doll waits in the Mud
too-bright Cheeks smudged with mud
Crushed into the mud
the Nightmare continues for hours
i should go home but i don’t and no one picks up the doll or the girl who by now is attracting Crows and Fleas and Flies while the soldiers smile and nod and dance with other little girls
and when the procession finally ends and the wheels are set in motion and
hands
wave out of barred windows
and the soldiers disappear with their girls
the Doll leers out of the mud
i want to pick it up
cradle it like She did
the only memory
of a little Star-girl
the doll waits in the Mud for days until the garbage collector
takes it away with
the rest of the Dirt
No one remembers – no one cares
Because
the town is Quiet now…
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