Barbie Coroner
At her morgue, she pours a formaldehydetea into pink plastic cups technicians
distribute indiscriminately. Slides
down synthetic throats. Glistens
methanol pink. Unessenial rituals
of death, a manufactured girl does drink
because imitation is habitual
to avoid her kind becoming extinct.
No little girl wants a doll who can’t die
once she learns her own expiration date
grows nigh. Details of a ductile demise
are dispensable but a death must wait
for all, with a pink stargazer lily pall.
We only love what dies — even just a doll.
Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Rhysling nominated sonneteer and a Best of the Net finalist. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of many books of poetry including The Stakes (Really Serious Literature) and a short story collection, You Don’t Want This. She is the editor of seven anthologies and the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter: @lolaandjolie. Website: kristingarth.comarth.com
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