Because You Wanted To Become Real

by | Dec 9, 2014 | Poetry

I gave you a body of cloth and vinyl. You pushed and strained to move

your arms and legs but fell apart, torn clothing and stuffing scattered

on the floor. I gave you a body with a voice box and a plastic torso.

Your right arm budged minutely. I dressed you in yellow ruffles

and Mary Janes, and when I tilted your body, you muttered

in faint syllables. When your eyes gestured toward a chair or table,

I bent your legs so you could sit. When you gestured toward the closet

where I kept an Ouija board, I thought you wanted a coat that would not fit.

I played games: tea party, Mama, teacher. You rolled your eyes.

You wanted to be flesh, opposable thumbs, and a pair of legs bent

toward walking. You consisted of plastic hinges and man-made

materials. Your eyes only closed when I positioned you to rest.

Photo By: AndyLeo@Photography

About The Author

Julie Barbour

Julie Brooks Barbour is the author of Small Chimes (Aldrich Press, 2014) and two chapbooks: Earth Lust (forthcoming from Finishing Line Press, 2014) and Come To Me and Drink (Finishing Line Press, 2012). Her poems have appeared in Waccamaw, diode, storySouth, Prime Number Magazine, The Rumpus, The Lindenwood Review, Midwestern Gothic, Blue Lyra Review, and Verse Daily. She is co-editor of the journal Border Crossing and an Associate Poetry Editor at Connotation Press: An Online Artifact. She teaches composition and creative writing at Lake Superior State University. Visit her online at juliebrooksbarbour.com.