I’m in a corner of your mind. To mock,
undress, to use unkind. Not about me
much at all. Just recognize a knock-
off Barbie doll. A pink plastic beauty,
can I replace? I have that kind of fuck
me face. Not angular enough to be
name brand. Small town dime store bargain, a buck
you had on hand. Inadequately
long, limbs with dents, so hollow, cheap— careless
fingertip accidents. You’ve had the best.
You couldn’t know how soon my shamefulness
would show. Impulse purchase, you should suppress.
Defective lesson in cut rate design
you designate a corner in your mind.

Photo Credit: kevin dooley Flickr via Compfight cc


Kristin Garth

Kristin Garth is a poet from Pensacola, Florida. She is a knee sock aficionado and a sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked the pages of Luna Luna, Occulum, Anti-Heroin Chic, Ghost City Review, Drunk Monkeys, TERSE, Journal and many other publications. Her chapbook Pink Plastic House is available through maverickduckpress.com

2 thoughts on “Knockoff Doll

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *