T h o s e   S p a n i s h   D o l l s

I’d like to think those Spanish dolls
were in some little girl's baby hands
that they’d survived the skip, the
mildew which coursed up their
silk dresses reaching, snaking
inwards. I’d like to believe
they were rescued somehow, were
being enjoyed finally in a way
they never were. Standing ornaments
dusted weekly in my Granny’s house
forbidden to our sticky fingers.
I pray they haven’t been lost
forever, a wasted journey which
ended on a dump mixed with
yesterday’s potato peelings, sanitary
towels and crushed coke cans.
I fear I pray in vain. The waste
had already happened over
twenty years ago.

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First appeared in Ya'Sou! Online, September 2005