Un-birth

I was never born.
Instead, she made me—

with thimbles for ears, buttons for eyes, an apple—
red smile drawn on my face—

She wrapped me in finest velvet and silk, then clipped my hair short
so I would never grow out of her reach

I was never born.
Instead, she made me—

engraved the inside of my head with her thoughts
welded my mouth with her words

then cleared a space in the curio
hid me behind polished glass

I was never born.
Instead, she made me—

whenever I tried to escape I fell—
my feet were not made for walking

and immediately she scooped me up,
stowed me away again safely

I was never born.
Instead, she made me,

though she did not know that slowly,
I was unmaking myself

tearing out her clipped hair
wiping off her painted smile.

I was never born.
Instead, she made me.

I beat my head
against the glass

until her thoughts floated out
and the door unlatched

and I forced my feet to take those first steps
willing myself

to be born