The Mannequin

by Gayle Myers

She is like a mannequin,
Lovely and lithe,
High cheekbones,
The classic look.
Men dress her in their dreams.
Some in gauzy veils
Of long cherished images.

Compliant with illusion
She dutifully becomes
All that they have ever wished.
Until the next image is imposed
By yet another man
Aglow with the moistness of her clay.

Eventually,
All will take their swollen hearts away.
Tiptoing through the shattered crystal
Of their broken dreams
They mumble of betrayal.

Innocent,
She looks into the mirror
Of their empty eyes
Now dark and imageless.
Ceramic face
Now streaked with tears,
She knocks upon her plaster form
And begs it to release her soul.

(c) 1997

Visions Magazine Index
Visions