She is your little wooden
doll. Her smile perpetually
cheery, hair perfectly smooth.
Her clothes are pressed, well detailed,
they cling to her frame. See her round
waist, how it curves in, but not too much.
Her glossy finish flashes in the light: she shines.
Without any effort, you get inside her
outer layer. Behind each ornate finish,
you find another to peel, she comes apart
in halves: First her shirt, second her pants.
She is so much smaller now, but still
you sense more. The rest of her
rattles inside this well finished
soft nude façade.
You can pry and pull this seemed
woman for years. Each time, you find
something essential, a truth
you had no other way of knowing
until before you she stands
solid where she was