The Doll
Beneath her billowing black skirts
She is a bisque doll —
Two unblinking blue eyes
And hands like white stone.
The men speak to her in parables,
Eating fruitcakes and custards,
Spoiling her real human hair
With their sticky hands.
Beneath her billowing black skirts
She is a bisque doll —
Two unblinking blue eyes
And hands like white stone.
The men speak to her in parables,
Eating fruitcakes and custards,
Spoiling her real human hair
With their sticky hands.
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