Little porcelain doll; raven strands in curled crowns
Tied with thick black rope. White gossamer waves flow
Off your hollow eggshell body, down to black-tipped feet,
Black-knotted bows – spiders cautiously showing a leg.
A deadly bow outlines your lip, but
Venus eyes gaze through shadow. A wooden pall
Crushed the light. Now fallen from your marble mantle
You lie here. In this dark, satin gloves are wool, lace trim
The same midnight-nothing as the coarse string
Of the rag doll’s plait. You may as well be nude.