My Poem

                                    by Molly Tenenbaum

It’s got a drawerful of doodads.
It’s got a jar of leftover screws.
Unfortunately it has no allen wrench.
One bolt will not be undone.
Seeks in the woods the rare tufted cupcake.
Might be a mushroom.
Says I don’t want any, eats all yours.
Says it’s not looking at the swan.
Says it’s not counting the daisy
before it starts Loves me or Not.
An itch, an itch, an itch
in its nose, it wants, it wants,
it wants to say…
ah choo. Can’t help its own turmeric.
Can’t wash the smell from its hands.
How would I know if it snores?
Does not speak French.
Comes with a free bucket,
free hole. Born of Thimble
by Banana Peel, its knots,
granny and slip. Once suffered
a terrible case of the turnstiles.
Once was infested with sibilants
and made to stay home from the party.
Always wanted a dollhouse,
one with a real-looking fire in the fireplace,
one with a loaf of real-looking bread on the table.