Dolls by Pamela Hill

Flashes of Romeo obscure Juliet’s vision, his face distorted, curled lips, dribbles of spit.  How long a haunt, these late night dreams of evil dolls on dressers in a chamber?

Atmospheric circles round her mystic self slow motion as she floats and rips the heads of dolls that bounce till magnets charm to universal spaces.

Dr. Bright White has no crystal ball. Capture heads and smash them on the floor for liberation. She hunts heads, a net once used for butterflies she never killed. Plastic pieces moon round planets, eyes never close.

Splayed wing vibrations. Joan of Arc rides in with angels. Just simply let them go.  Kaleidoscope of shifting mirrors turns view of midnight red steel blue.  Within the blue she lets them go and earns her own freedom.

Author bio: 

Pamela Hill attended school in North Florida where she graduated summa cum laude. She continues to focus on creative writing by collecting certificates and rejection slips. Her work can be found in Ping Pong, Thrush and other journals.