Plastic Mouth

Darling Barbie,
you've stabbed my back
you and your plastic Ken
your plastic baby and that plastic bed
and the wooden cabinet I made your home
I think I had about twenty of you
and about thirty puffy dresses, sparkly outfits and shoes, to go with it
long after I was considered too old
I'd sneak to the corner of the playroom
in the old house
and spin stories of romance
weave you magical dreams
and when I'd finished narrating my hope
I'd put you down and let you sleep

I played the plastic God to your plastic life to forget
about my future
one of skin and sin
and surgeries with Popsicles afterwards
and my mom said she'd stay in the operating room but left
where the doctors said they'd fix me
and spoke fluffy words from their plastic mouths
I must say I quite enjoyed it

and yet, how could you?
I thought we were friends
I recall your hourglass figure
and your perfect breasts
little girls should have known they could never look like you

I have to admit
I was slightly nostalgic
when my mother made me pick and choose between all of you
and keep just two
and wrap the rest in plastic bags
(they'll suffocate! I said)
and ship you to my cousin across the sea
and when I heard she'd broken your arms and ripped your limbs
I smiled

from my plastic mouth
then went off to school
and learned from my plastic teacher
despised those plastic kids I hate
and laughed with my plastic friends

one day, this plastic must melt
but for now

I think I'll stick to baby dolls instead.