I feel like I am A New Orlean doll
With my burlap and my threaded seams
To view the world.
My fingers are stitched
And immobile.

I feel like I should scream—
Scream to wake
Scream to crack the atmosphere
Or scream to come alive.
My mouth, however, is dumb.

I feel like I am in someone else's shape
Someone who has wronged
And will be wronged alike
With needles I ***** myself.
My embroidery comes apart near my chest.

Blind woman's stitch binds me to his hair.
He turns and drops when I am rendered air.