to the four dolls on that red card

four dolls,
chipped to a red card,
like totally glued to it,cemented,cemented,
paper limbed
and their hearts must be papery too
(if he had made any while making you)
O,yes he did,
he made you for me,
warped you out of paper last valentine
for me,for me,for me
even your rinse brown hair
is fake with three beaded hair ponies
on each side...
even the breath is not there.
And the dark plastic eyes celebrating
a death that never was,
fragile and breakable,
you stare outside the windowpane
at the red Geranium flowers,
brimming with life,
what a contrast...
Dollies,you depress me,
you depress me awfully
and poetry is starting to depress me too.