And the dolly speaks of butterflies. Cats
move across & balloons sinking down with care
to bust upon the pine needles. O sharp desire!
Frail flesh! Your membranes ne'er

showed us so grave allegories. And in the mouth
& in the belly is what we are & out — pop!
wisdom, which we don't receive but get
just stones. And then fall into the water — plop!

while gazing at the nymphs. Tendernesses
undo us all, dear dollies & dear bears
that the soft touch of the babe's cheek — a tear
filled her little plastic eye. Where's

the handkerchief? Ah, she lost it, lost it.
She was blind. The toys stirred not at all
as dead they were. The balloons had burst.
The air become fatal.
The room brittle
with foetal
settlements of each suspended motion
ebbing out of one thing
to another.