The Rag Doll is a mother poem, a reflection on what it means to be a mother, daughter, a sister, a woman and on how we can support each other.
The Rag Doll
At Christmas and on birthdays in our house, my mother and I
exchanged ragdolls for tantrums.
Like a fool, I'd rise and sneak downstairs, crossing fingers
and toes, soon slapped by the sight of an ugly, mushy
package with Mother's trademark frills and flowery prints. I'd
turn on the balls of my feet, go bawling into my pillow, dished
up a cocktail of bad and mad behaviour / my contribution to
our celebratory dinner. Another rag doll and another,
and another, every birthday, every Christmas, year after year.
My brothers and sisters barked
Why can't I get Barbie and Ken? louder than Happy Birthday and
Silent Night, soon shushed by Mom's
I won't get you a Barbie, she'll get into your head and ruin
your life, she's not fun like this rag doll.
My dose of Ken and Barbie, I got at my friend's house, Mom
and I played rag dolls at home.
They got into our heads and kicked off a ripple of liberation
to cruise.
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