Dear Friend, Dear Heart
A doll made with a single needle
to graze my face, that pushes into
the pincushion of my heart. Bundled
in the warmest blankets, in the barest arms,
filled with nest eggs. Hair as thick as cello strings
and color of rosewood. An endless stitch
in my chest, thread pulled slow and taut
through the starched canvas of her belly.
How the ghosts in her fingers
weave into the stark cavern left
uncovered, pours her children in
as though from a cup
as deep as the gut
of a volcano.
*Published in Gloom Cupboard; #119, online Spring 2010