there was no denying
her affection for
corrupted baby doll heads
factory reject Betsy Wetsies
and the plain Jane
strange girls that lined
our apartment,
trophies of the ongoing
freak tournaments that
she held like putty in the
palm of her ravaged mind
when we divorced
she won full custody
of our junkyard children
driving away with them
in baby car seats
headed for future
oblivion along the
highway paved with
scorched plasticity
Originally Appeared in Gutter Eloquence Magazine
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