The Silent Doll
The wire noose grew tighter on Mondays.
Holding her head in place, jaw locked and chin taut.
A marionette.
Eyes staring wide and lashes batting waxy cheeks.
They spoke and she listened.
Her rebel thoughts crushed.
They took them from her in the dark place one by one.
Watched the fight leave her and ambivalence settle like the first snow.
Serene, pure, muffled.
The fine threads that held her in place glint gold as a doll’s hair.
Each strand a promise or a threat contorting her face and slack limbs.
Lips peach and slightly parted.
Always on the brink of a word though none had been sanctioned.
And even if they were, she had forgotten them all.
The wire noose cut into her neck.
A reminder.
And she sprang upward.
There is no slouching here.
Under the watch of the steel eyes
And fluorescent row upon row of silent dolls.
