Dolls

Their eyes filled with nothing,

their bodies filled with air.

I pretended to give them

a life they lacked. My life.

But isn’t that what good

little girls do?

Shouldn’t that prepare me –

for what?

I should have lined them up

and shot them.

But I didn’t have a gun.

Or the imagination.

I sacrificed that

on the altar

of good.

inspired by “The Breathing, The Endless News” by Rita Dove

published in Write Under the Moon

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