The Dolls in The Dollhouse 

In the corner of her room in shadow lit air, Wreathed by dust motes, denizens of lore, 

Their beetle eyes followed her everywhere, 

As she tried to move on without a care, 

Striving to suppress the urges, to ignore. 

In the corner of her room in shadow lit air 

Lines (frown and smile) framed by hair. 

Wispy, vapory, (real?), she swore and swore: Their beetle eyes followed her everywhere, 

From left to right, entrapping, furthermore, 

Her thoughts: whirling, crushing, numbing. 

In the corner of her room in shadow lit air 

One grins. (But light plays an eternal war with sight). Lord! She can’t go on standing! Their beetle eyes follow her everywhere! 

She must abandon! Her instinct abhors, 

What is innocent, porcelain sculpting.

 In the corner of her room in shadow lit air, Their beetle eyes follow her everywhere!

By Savindri Ferdinando