Jessica Brazell

Violent, out of style,

marked by hot coils:

 

I did put my chin down

on the stovetop, and 

my right hand, at your right

hand.

 

My heart murmurs, in 

no agony, nothing to speak

of. 

I knew when 

things that resembled 

humans were not 

humans, 

but I didn’t know if 

or when 

they would be ensouled. 

My hunch was that 

they’d be angry 

whenever this happened, 

or else 

have a soul 

that feels nothing but 

hunt 

the thing 

you’re an imitation of. 

Porcelain dolls 

knew as soon as they 

could know 

that even though 

they were weak

I was scared.