She’s plastic.
A toy.
A plaything.
A Barbie.
1955:
She’s in the kitchen
making dinner.
She dreams;
a politician
a doctor
a scientist.
No,
they tell Her.
2016:
She’s walking down the street.
Eyes following Her every move.
She’s in her office.
She looks at Him,
making twice as much,
working half
Her hours.
What was she
wearing?
Why was she
out that late?
Questions
She can’t answer.
He haunts her
dreams.
She’s in a cage,
broken
while He’s free.
