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Paper Dolls and Toy Soldiers
: Paper Dolls by michaelcahill

I'm riding a smoke ring

                       even as the circle

   starts to vanish


I'm looking for a hole
to silently slip through
   unnoticed
   unmissed
but for the faint smell of tobacco
in the bed where I once dreamt

I'm looking for the smallest crevice
to turn sideways
and squeeze through
one finger at a time

           I find a slight line
            in a forgotten corner
           it is the line between
          captivation and captivity

I followed toy soldiers
though I prefer paper dolls

I reluctantly fall into an uneasy sleep

I dream of doors
with handles
that turn
I dream of windows
           with latches
            that rise with a touch

                  I dream of a child
                  running in a circle
                  for no reason
  I dream of myself
  running in a circle
  with no purpose

I awake choking
in a smoke-filled room
with no escape
without the caress of ignorance

I curse the room
designed for captivity

I curse the light
in my eyes
and its mocking clarity

        I curse ...

myself

even as I blow a smoke ring

around your throat

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