Work Text:
You took liquid clay and put it into a mold. Plaster absorbed my moisture, and you poured the rest of my insides out, leaving behind a hollow shell. This is how you made my head. You took a larger mold and did it again. This is how you made my body. You’ve done it before, nearly hundreds of times, and I am made well, without bubbles of air or etchings to mar my perfect form.
You polished my thin skin with a soft pad, sanding my rough edges smooth. With China paint, you brushed my eyes and cheeks and nose and then set fire to me. Layer by layer you added more paint, with your careful hands and discerning eyes, and in between each layer I was set ablaze. Cool, then hot, then cool again.
You considered painting my hair on, but decided to buy me a wig instead. It is soft on my hard body, and you brush it and touch it with your fingers.
You give me things to hold now: dolls tinier than me, or mirrors so I can see your work, or little umbrellas, or toys. You dress me in clothes made just my size. The socks have no runs, and fit right over my feet, and the shoes have a tiny clasp. The dress is creamy and have lace bottoms and sleeves, and the bodice has shiny bows. A bonnet over my hair is frilly, too, and my straight-haired wig is replaced with a curly-haired one.
Motionless and cute, frozen in my beauty, I sit without moving wherever you have put me. Every time you touch me, pick me up, dust my nose, I know it is you. I look forward to it, to your touch. To the new outfits you will provide for me. My eyes cannot blink as your camera flashes, so you take perfect pictures every time, but you delete them anyway and take more.
I do not mind. You made me to be adored, and that is all I desire.