Thursday, June 18, 2015

Bobbi Sinha-Morey - The Doll House / Tuesday's Child

The Doll House

Living inside a doll house
the voice of its tiny heart
sends forth it secrets in
the layers of my mind,
its hidden life pulsating
without any movement,
echoing through every
room, tears trembling
in my eyes and the dusk
melting outside. Alone
making leeks in the kitchen,
my tongue is mute having
swallowed dust in the
asphyxiated air. Nothing
grows where I live, only
the bones of a child left
by the dead lilies near
my front door. At night
there are gaps in the
windows where lamps
never shine. By the light
of the daystar the nub
of a finger nudges me
awake, and the same
cerulean eyes peer in
like before.

Tuesday's Child

It's been a year since this
Tuesday she died under
the red autumn moon on
the edge of a viral fever.
The peridot ring she gave
me I let go of under the
moving lips of the river,
hoping to forget, but every
night I see her face above
my bed, and pages of her
diary left on my pillow after
I've slept. She watches me,
but not at daylight. One day
I let go of the house and
stayed away. When I saw
it again it had been unpainted
for years and, when I looked
closely, I saw her tear down
my favorite arras from the
wall to drape over a chair.

Bobbi Sinha-Morey is a poet living in the peaceful city of Brookings, Oregon. Her poetry can be seen in places such as Midnight Lane Boutique, Orbis, The Path, Bellowing Ark, and Pirene's Fountain, among others. Bobbi's books of poetry are available at and www.writewordsinc.comand her website is located at She loves cooking, knitting, aerobics, and reading. Bobbi's favorite author is Jodi Picoult.

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