Bleeding doll

 



Ulay and Marina Abramovic



Bleeding doll

 


Your pen- so dear to me

a fetish that sets the world on fire

never consumes us.

 

Your love poems       

in my hands           

are bleeding.

 

You say that these words

written for her years ago,

could fit our story now.

 

This is the proof that

love is not

unique, irreplaceable but

 

a ragged, recyclable cloth

we put on our skin and adjust

to make it fit our bodies.

 

It blinks and pulsates

like a talking doll’s heart

every time you shake it

 

the doors closed

and hardly can open now

to escape from

 

the loneliness a doll feels when

it is no longer

the child’s favorite toy.

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