The Doll

'She's all I got,' he said,

'Since Maggie passed.'

There, propped on the bed,

She sat,

A playful smile and

Massed hair, a hat 

Gently perched

And eyes that spoke of

Nothing,

For a while I gazed-

From politeness,

A gingham smock

And impossible breasts,

A single missing nail,

'She's hard to dress,

Weighs a ton'

For a moment, he

Seemed distressed, 

As if she'd mind

His clumsiness.

'Nothing dirty, understand.'

I winked and took one

Smooth silicon hand.

'Beautiful,' I said,

And left to make the tea,

His voice continued,

Faintly, seeming tender,

I poured a second cup,

Bronze and steaming,

Though not for me.