She, A Mannequin
written by: Monica Oswal
@monica.oswal
She sets them all free
to fly away, spread wings
to seek new skies
Yet, they all come back,
one after the other
each and every one of them,
fleeting birds of desires
Hordes of them
throng her grave,
they paw and claw
tearing away
a chunk apiece,
laying bare,
a frozen sky.
They take a flight,
beaks full of
raw, molten lava
Changing trajectories,
they alter course
and reappear
like morning stars
to put back together
her shredded limbs,
they sew her back
stitching, hemming,
stuffing her anew
Once done,
they stand back
to admire their handiwork,
scrunching and pulling
they make sure
the flawless and translucent
fake smile
embroidered on her lips
doesn’t fray
She bears it all,
not a drop of sweat
bothers her brow,
though countless
they are all a part of her,
various hidden quarks
of her cellular being.
She smiles,
pulling the seams taut;
mannequins are afterall
not supposed to
display emotions
- She, A Mannequin - July 11, 2017
