Rosie

Rosie was my first baby doll

I got her when my sister was born

So I could act like Mommy

They got me a puppy too

The puppy and I would sit

Under my sister's crib and pee

I got spanked and the puppy vanished

Afraid to ask lest I go too

I took off all of Rosie's clothes

Put her in a box in the closet

And said she was napping

They were worried

I never liked Rosie

I supposed that was because

I had to like my sister

Displaced displacement anxiety

Many years later for a kid

My evil boy cousin and I

Took Rosie outside to play

Swung her round and round

Tossed her into an empty lot

Never to be found again

It was only as an adult

That I regretted this last act

I wonder about the decomposition

Of her composite head and arms

The rotting of her cotton stuffed body

How others still have that first doll

Reminiscing on the fact that

It was thought natural for a girl

To know what to do

With a baby doll back then

These instincts we are taught

By watching others with children

How do we learn then

If we are the first child

Of an only child Mother

Isolated from the pack

With their human puppies

And alpha instructors

Why are we found lacking

If we don't know how to

Be appropriately mothering

Until so much later

© 2007 Sandy Vrooman