This entry is part 20 of 29 in the series Conversari


for RR

Pandora was a doll with a plastic head
& a boneless fabric body full of give.
Her eyes were a smiling blue
you scraped with a thumbnail one day
to see what lay beneath: blank plastic.
Pandora was a doll with plastic arms
that could be bent into the semblance
of a hug. From a high perch
she watched the bears multiply
on the bed, expert listeners,
burly avatars of comfort. When
the circus master’s mad wife
came to give them all away
to charity, Pandora alone
with her hopeless eye was spared.
You wept until you couldn’t see
& wailed until your voice turned
to a whisper; the bears stayed gone.
Your sad box of a room
held only Pandora.

See Rachel’s response: “Eye (seeing, being)

Series Navigation← The Fullness of TimeReading the Icelandic Sagas →

One Reply to “Pandora”

  1. Poor Pandora, half sighted, half seer; less loved, so saved. I love these inversions, this turning of the box inside out.

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