Figurine and Paper Crown. Cecile Bol


Porcelain figurine

she broke
I don’t know how
I wasn’t there
but when I came in later
she lay in bits

on my knees I searched for pieces
thought that maybe I could mend her

smoothly erased whiteboard porcelain
Amazonian eyes of green glass
precious pussy – hole at the bottom
hollow within – made by the dozen
yet something about her was special

gluing is pointless
you will always see it
and every well-meaning guest will wonder
whoever it was that pawed her so nonchalantly
glue has a tendency to stick

we calmly collected the shards
poured them into a wooden box

I don’t know how
I wasn’t there
only know by hearsay
but when I got to know her
precious girl – just eight
she was already broken

paper crown

a cut-out crown is still a crown
for a girl on a stolen horse
I would have swapped our sanities
to see her hair become lost in 
rose horizons, saddlebags filled
with boxes of chocolate sprinkles

I’d been chasing robber children
long before we met – and I will
uphold this selfish travelling
well beyond my ashes scattered
but she – she bore whole galaxies
sprinkled into maps on her skin

in my inside pocket you’ll find
scissors, tape and golden paper
the day I borrowed her reindeer
I thought in time she’d ride my horse
instead I stop at roadside shrines
and eat chocolate sprinkles daily


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