he plays with dolls
by t. zoey benally

smooth stained wood floors were best
his favorite spot to play with dolls
he pretended it was a great mansion
he felt his mother's smile quiet
approval rained down from her face
cleansed his child soul

he had his favorites, lined them up
around him, the royal guard
he loved them most, smooth nylon strings
named them Babette & Colette
he like their first names to rhyme
with their last, Marionette

he often wondered, if he had a sister
would he be less devoted to Marionette sisters
would Barbie and her hot rod, glittered
knee socks and predisposition for cherry stilettos
lure him away from his wooden puppets
leave them in a tangled Pinnochio pile

sometimes he wished they would talk
arms ached, shoulders burned, mind
often tired from constant motion
and pretend required of him
but they never let him down, they were
flawless, prefect wooden cheeks
bright painted smiles