treasure (excerpt III, the "Dolls" series)

            ~~~~ Doll ~~~~

Variegated prisms display crushed trampled porcelain doll limbs;

their fragments tumble to the Riverbanked Earth –

 Fingers break and separate from his bleached hands;

the miniscule plaything begins to float, piecemeal, in the dusky, orange water.

Her eyes drift upward, gracefully, 

eye - lashing luxury

as in a slow-motion film?

bare ripples upon the waiting watching Water;

 their stares beseech for a few moments,

changing colors with the Sunset ….

A slender, swarthy man arrives, gentle-eyed…

His hands, masculine, 

delicately maintained;

lift the doll pieces, hold them high, 

up in the lowering light,

as if in offer: 

humble treasure 

for the Dusk’s sinking Sun…

His cerulean eyes cloud; 

his brow ruffles;

He holds her sexless torso flat in his strong Artist’s palm;

he murmurs inaudibly…

He pockets his tiny treasure in the worn leather sanctuary of his left breast pocket.

For Arthur Phillips

© CherylFaith Taylor