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The Doll
the Town is quiet now
 
 
 they all left in a long Train
 
  
 Of suffocating wooden cars
 
 …some were crying.  my heart cringes to see grown Men
 
 
 
 cry.
 
 
 maybe Tears are evidence that they are inferior
 but I don’t
 
 
 Understand
 just today
 
 
 the rest of us played,
 
 now they tramp through the Dust to where?
 
 now they board the boarded-Up cars…
 
 
 now they give up Hope as the train-wheels squeak
 
 
 
 a Girl in the crowd
 
 
 
 held a doll, a sack-doll, a rag-tag cloth Doll
 
 With beaded eyes and pink Cheeks
 
 I Watched her pass watched her care-Worn eyes too old
 
 her yellow Star burning a hole in her breast
 
 
 
 
 
 
 more deadly
 than a thousand
 
   angry Guns
 
 she dropped the doll in the
 
 
 
 
 bustle, trample, pell-Mell
 
 
 
 
 whirlwind
 bent to pick it up
 
 A shot rings
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 out.
 
 
 
 
 No explanation,
  just the whimpers of
 
 
 
 
 her mother
 as
     she
 
 rots and spoils
 
 
 
 in the
 
 
 
 
 
 Heat.
 the doll waits in the Mud
 
 
 too-bright Cheeks smudged with mud
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Crushed into the mud
 
 
 
 
 the Nightmare continues for hours
 
 
 
 i should go home but i don’t and no one picks up the doll or the girl who by now is attracting Crows and Fleas and Flies while the soldiers smile and nod and dance with other little girls
 
 
 
 and when the procession finally ends and the wheels are set in motion and
 
 
 hands
 
 
 wave out of barred windows
 
 
 
 
 and the soldiers disappear with their girls
 
 the Doll leers out of the mud
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i want to pick it up
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 cradle it like She did
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     the only memory
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   of a little Star-girl
 
 the doll waits in the Mud for days until the garbage collector
 
 
 
 
 takes it away with
 
 the rest of the Dirt
 
 
 
 No one remembers –  no one cares
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Because
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 the town is Quiet now…

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