Broken Barbie Doll
(A poem by Annie Rink after a photograph by Reinfried Marass)
She sits on the dirty ground / torso propped against a peeling wall / head pinned there / hair weeping onto her face / her arms spread apart to the sides.
A brown wrapping paper / shudders in her left hand / the fingers of her right / clasp a detached steering wheel / as if clutching the wrist of a toddler / who’s veered off the pavement.
Her black heel has slid sideways off her foot / and panders the high arch / with the leer of the clinging strap.
Her breasts hang like large medals / beneath her pleated top / and what of her vulva / is it ripped at the seams like the white cotton skirt / that barely covers it / what of her womb / tender core of her being / the cigarette butts / clustered around her other foot.
A mass of sperm about the ovum / the full beer packs that lie beside her / like small coffins.
Does her body yearn upwards / will she make a helix of herself / as she did between many men’s sheets?
Great work .. :)