Sunday, March 8, 2009

Kewpie Doll

Little doll, good luck charm, fairy wings,
rustles her blue taffeta skirt in the wind.
She is part of carnivalé, as old as Ray Lawler's
play, Summer of the 17th Doll.
Flocks of morning light glaze her pink head
with only one dent, having been held too many times.
Her faded lipstick pouts an "O" as the mouths of girls,
words forming seduction in their heads.
She has lost her wand, her diamond ring,
but not her kiss-curl, her good luck heart.
At the windowpane she raises her suppliant wings
& reaching for the stars, taps
her tiny blue shoes against glass.
Fairy wings dispersing dust, as if she is back there
above the gaze of girls, lolling in the wind,
taking in the glitter of carnivalé,
the rustle of lemon & pink Kewpie dolls
luminous & young.



Published by Australian Poetry Centre, Melbourne

of Arc & Shadow

of Arc & Shadow
Published by Sunline Press, WA

The Joyous Lake

Par écrit

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