Bloody Barbie
Bloody Barbie
by christina reed
Daddy
You lied
There is no such thing as happily ever after
I’m a CUNT
A Bitch
Their mother
Our whore
The scholar
You slut
Loose but pure
Big but little
I was born wrapped in pink
And I dread if I die in it
I was what you wanted
What you needed
I do as I’m told
Fold my hands
So nice and neat
Cross my legs
Sit up straight
I’m on display
I press my pretty, perfective, passive face up to the glass
You force little girls to watch me
They take notes as they walk by
Little girls learn from me
But today
I will not press that pretty perfect passive face up to the glass
Today I will not cross my legs
Today I will not be on display
I will spread those big legs so far open
Slouch in my chair
Read my middle finger
Little girls shamelessly watch in admiration
Walls crack like cement
There will be chaos
FEAR ME
I killed my daddy with my Barbie
It’s too bad
I’m so sad
Blood in her hair and her dress
You dyke
You dangerous dyke
I cried for her
I smashed my daddy’s face in with my brand new Barbie
Liars burn in hell he says
Doors lock
Please take the bloody Barbie
Bittersweet pixie sticks
Daddy…it’s not your fault you’re one of them
“GO HOME AND PRAYâ€
Emotionally charged. Passionate. I’m going out and buying the Goth-chick Barbie to swat Evangelicals now.
I like how it seemed poem was being told by ‘Barbie’ at beginning and then ‘voila’, oh, it is the voice of the owner/the poet/the rebel.
Ken says: “We are the sum of our experiences; and sometimes, we need to use subtraction.”
Nice job Christina!
Oddly enough, I’ve read a handful of poems very close to this over the years. All on the same subject, all of them submitted to H and H, but this is the first that I’ve ever posted. It’s the best one I’ve received on this very difficult subject.