Little Sister

Glass eyes empty
of a soul bereft-
peal back the lid
and examine the clouds
(a swirling fantasy world)
that fill your lost mind.
Were you scared when your
eyes fell closed,
weighted by the certainty of
sickness?

What happened,
that you should come
to be in my arms instead of
our mothers,
or holding your own
doll in careful embrace?

For when a gentle touch
separates flesh from bone
and sinew falls from joints,
an arm lost can be easily
reattached
with careful stitches
to hold you together,
my little playful companion.
but the needle must hurt
when it weaves you back together.

I’ll place you in a cradle,
baby doll,
and cover you up well,
for the cold has taken to your body
and nestles in your chest:
the frigid embrace of thoughtless love.

Your heart is still
in the silent night
and when I hold you to my chest
(your arms akimbo to match my disregard)
I hear no beat to match my own.
What happened to your ruddy cheeks
touched with a hint of rose
after playing among the flowers.
Pale, pale, oh so pale!
just like a little china doll.

I’d brush your hair
but it clings to the comb
which tears at your delicate scalp.
The makers must not have been
careful enough when reattaching your
once gorgeous curls.

And when your stitches come lose
or something rents your skin,
you fall to pieces in my arms
and the putrid smell
of and old toy
fills my nose,
befuddles my mind.
Innocence asks,
"What happened to my little sister?"