maryanne bernardo

The Perfect Cut

I cut the hair of my barbies
wrote with marker on their faces
blackened the whites of their eyes

hair grew sparsely
in places

i was ashamed

whispered secrets to dolls
tied my hair in ribbons
stared at a cross and begged

make me pretty, blue eyed
hairless
with perfectly puckered lips

i was always hungry
exercised to exhaustion

so I might be selected
the perfect cut of meat