Look at the doll take care of the doll
The doll has no eyes,
There are two olive-black pits
where the doll's eyes should be,
Take care of it
Hold its hand
Not that hand
It is a nude descending
A nude on a staircase.

Look at the doll take care of the doll
The doll has no eyes,
There are six buttons on the doll's chemise
Two are missing;
Three and four
Not that hand
The other hand
That hand is on.
There's a hand ahead of your step
A hand on the floor
Most dolls have ten fingers
This doll has eleven
Five on the floor
Six in your hand.

Look at the doll take care of the doll
The doll has no eyes,
The five on the floor are quick
A hand with five legs
The hand with five legs
stops when you stop,
It turns and looks at
you with no eyes.
We know it looked.
It jumps, clicks its thumb
and middle finger,
You move again; commanded.
Step stair step and stare.

Look at the doll take care of the doll
The doll has no eyes,
The doll has stopped walking,
 You look,
Its neck turns in your direction,
A hand appears in the eye sockets,
A thumb outward from socket left,
A middle finger from socket right,
Click.
It clicks its fingers in shattered bridge bone,
It breaks out through the doll's face
And throws itself at your neck.

Look at the doll take care of the doll
For the doll has no eyes.

I sit front and centre

hands spread, a victim of your choices.

The red wine stains my lips

swirls in my mouth like poison.

Twelve different voices crowd my ears

this is goodbye, but we do not know it yet.


If I could climb inside my own artwork, I would

change the past, present and future.

The moment I announce the betrayal

of all we have worked for, beautiful chaos.

You clench your fist and withdraw

A pretty penny was your price, so easily bought.


You took me here, you see, to Italy

where we could sit and marvel at what remains

each stroke of Da Vinci's masterpiece eroded

just as our own has been.

We do not take the Father's name in vain in our house

instead, we find receipts for jewellery our mother never received. 


You are our Judas Iscariot

now the red wine stains the table cloth with blood

you will not climb a hill to place your head in a noose. 

Yet still I pray for the resurrection, the salvation

of your name disappearing from the divorce papers.

Jesus Christ.

(It was all in vain.)