< Issue 6 >
Cimmerian Dolls
by Maggie Mae
They come to me wrapped in bubbles.
My Cimmerian dolls!
Frail bodied.
Dormant little lambs.
Painted with black massacre,
intimate carnal intrusion by gropers,
finger explorers,
scarlet fruit thieves.
Their porcelain hard-skin
dressed for a life hijacked.
White faces frozen in horror,
night shrieks leaking from
their eyes.
My little China pieces.
Malnourished lamb meat.
They will not open
their eyes to feast on
strong muscled pork.
Grown sweet
Sausage thick.
Mature healthy eggs.
Inviting and warm.
Housewife Pie.
They cannot open their eyes.
A feast!
Mature healthy eggs, inviting and warm,
housewife pie, waiting to be consumed.
They will spoil,
or be taken by the involuntarily starved.
My poor Cimmerian dolls will hibernate through it,
until their bubble wrapped bodies
do not become.
Cimmerian Dolls
by Maggie Mae
They come to me wrapped in bubbles.
My Cimmerian dolls!
Frail bodied.
Dormant little lambs.
Painted with black massacre,
intimate carnal intrusion by gropers,
finger explorers,
scarlet fruit thieves.
Their porcelain hard-skin
dressed for a life hijacked.
White faces frozen in horror,
night shrieks leaking from
their eyes.
My little China pieces.
Malnourished lamb meat.
They will not open
their eyes to feast on
strong muscled pork.
Grown sweet
Sausage thick.
Mature healthy eggs.
Inviting and warm.
Housewife Pie.
They cannot open their eyes.
A feast!
Mature healthy eggs, inviting and warm,
housewife pie, waiting to be consumed.
They will spoil,
or be taken by the involuntarily starved.
My poor Cimmerian dolls will hibernate through it,
until their bubble wrapped bodies
do not become.
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