I live In a cardboard cutout house Our plates and silverware Are plastic The food adorning them Plastic as well Glossy and vibrant But poisonous if consumed
No water will pour From the sink or tub If you try to turn The handle
The plants are fake The dog is fake The microwave won't turn on The floor looks wooden (which may be the case) For there is no carpet in sight No decor to behold
I try to pull back The sheets on the bed Only to find That they're entwined-- Attached to the mattress That feels more like Pottery I lean down to see "Made in China" Etched on the side Of the frame
My footsteps echo Down the hall On the wooden floor Of the cardboard cutout house Until I finally see Something living Something real
Until I get close.
Her skin is matte Her eyes are dull Her teeth are chalk white Her hair (maybe made from silk?) sits perfectly in place She is positioned with a smile-- Her vinyl arm bent at the elbow Masquerading a friendly wave
She is merely a sculpture A doll of a human being Filled with wax instead of tissue Factory made, not a product of Love(TM)
I escape Away from the figurine Mother The clay bed Hard floors Prop kitchenware and Plastic food