Another high school poem, this time from senior year ELA.

The first of three poems in a final project assigned during the poetry unit.

I wasn't too fond of the way the final drafts turned out,

but the nostalgic subject of this one makes it my favorite among them.

I still love Ugly Dolls! :-)

Dated 10/22/2019

 

 

 

Ugly Doll

 

Standing still and stone-like, strong as an Ox,

resting in fleece-soft and mild,

with such remarkable consistency that you have

I should reward you for this labour.

 

You sit idle upon my shelf,

As you have sat upon my beds, desks, and stools

Waiting in one-eyed wake -

for what, I cannot say, except

Perhaps to be picked up.

 

Is your vision blighted by your crossed left eye?

I know mine does suffer.

In that same eye, I can barely even discern the shape of my own hands, 

or who they belong to.

Do you see it as an anomaly that I can do that discerning?

Or do the thinking-bones atop your head do things

That I ought to be phenomenally amazed by?

 

Do they triangulate away from your head when I’m not looking

To phone home for those you share a stitch with?

 

(it’d be awfully befitting of your form - 

so little-green-man-like -

to search for respite in exo-lives)

 

Can you peer into the control-center of my fleshy head

Like sweetmeats in an opened can?

You keep the broth inside from spoiling with the comforting garnish of your felt.