Dolls

Barbie is plastic
and synthetic hair,
moving when
and if you tell her to,
going where you want.

But I am woman;
and I do not roar;
roaring is for the lions
and tigers; I lay no claims
there. I speaklivebreathe
and succeed. That
is for humans.

Blood courses through
veins; mind in perpetual
thought; heart pumping,
lungs accepting. I am
woman. My hand moves
if I tell it to – my legs
go where I want them to.
Should they walk to you
does not mean they would
not walk away.

Barbie sits – never
aging, never changing,
always conforming
to your wish. Plastic
house, plastic car, and
a thin waist. Should you
want her, it is as easy
as picking her up, for she
is nothing inside. No heart
mind or words. She is not
the woman that I am.
I think, I feel, I speak. If you
cannot deal with it, I suggest
(and strongly so) that you
grow up
and stop
playing with
dolls.