False Porcelain Poem by Amy Sutton

The paint becomes her,
(So pretty so pretty)
And wipes her clean.
She is reborn
In this new, sickly skin.
(So proud of you)
Some mockery between
Life and doll;
Her false porcelain
Presents
Blackened eyes,
And bloodstained lips,
(Such good fortune)
Like some twisted invitation
To the monster
Beckoning beyond her paper divide.
(Such a lucky girl)
Yes, here is your lucky girl.
Break me if you will,
Oh Husband of mine.
I do not fear your heavy hands,
Or you harsh, bitter breath.
Crack me open if you dare:
The child you seek is gone;
Only broken china remains.