You dismiss us;
me and Dolly.
"Run along to your room," you say.
"Stay there...all night. All day."
You think we don't know
that you crawl with every loathsome perversion
of flesh and spirit.
You believe that Dolly and I don't see it.
Fine. We will whisper over our tea set,
cups as delicate as a veneer.
We'll discuss you, you know, and send anonymous notes
to Mrs. Muffington, the police, and in the pockets of strangers' coats.
Dolly says your lungs are weak.
You stumble when you walk. Cough when you speak.
"Hello," we'll say, "Hello, what's this?"
as you lie on the floor we'll give you a kiss.
Dismiss us once more.
Wave your hand airily.
Say, "Go talk to your doll!"
my doll talks to me.