The Dollhouse

By: Kristi N. Phillips

Let's play with my dollhouse.
Let's pretend that the dolls are cleaning the house.
We'll put them in nice dresses, and comb their hair.
A friend will come over to play with the daughter of the dollhouse.
The friend will have a secret,
But she can't tell anyone.

Let's pretend the mother and father suspect something about the friend,
As she always wore heavy makeup and rushed home before the sun went down.
They notice marks on her legs, but they don't say a word to the daughter.
For a while, the daughter didn't suspect anything about the friend,
But now she does.

Let's pretend they both go to school together.
One Friday in June, the daughter sees the friend as a ghost,
With her pale skin, dark eye shadow, and deep red lipstick.
After school's out, let's have them walk home together.
They each pick flowers for their mothers from someone's yard,
and head to their houses.
Next day in school let's have the friend not show up.
Many days after that she still doesn't come back to school.
Soon the daughter will realize that she is gone and won't come back.

Years have passed and the house has not been cleaned by the dolls.
Dust covers the expensive, yet small wooden furniture.
The dolls lay still in their beds in wrinkled clothes,
With their hair uncombed.

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