• ‘Look into the mirror,
    What do you see?’
    I gazed upon a rigid face,
    Staring back at me.

    She had golden hair and wooden eyes,
    And red lips made of glass.
    Porcelain skin and rosy cheeks,
    ‘Who is she?’ I start to ask.

    ‘She is a puppet, made of wood,
    As flawless as can be.’
    She gazed back blankly, with no smile,
    Staring back at me.

    Showing no emotion,
    Her face was like a mask.
    With eyes un-moving, ever peering,
    A face to ever-last.

    As I pondered what she thought,
    My head tilts to the side.
    With a gift for mimicry,
    The same position she supplied.

    Bewildered and astounded,
    I raised a heavy hand,
    And with a subtle wooden creak,
    Her arm lifted with fingers fanned.

    ‘Why is it that you copy me?’
    I asked the puppet in the mirror.
    ‘Don’t you know of whom she is?’
    A voice asked as it neared.

    I turned my head on to the left,
    And gazed at my new friend.
    A sleek crow upon my shoulder,
    His service he did lend;

    As he played about my yellow curls,
    I glanced slowly down,
    Towards my single wooden leg,
    At which I tried to frown.

    ‘You’re not quite finished, puppet girl,
    There’s still some work to do.’
    Glancing to my lifted arm,
    As flies pulled needles through.

    They sewed and sewed the wood pieces,
    Until I had a full limb,
    Then covered it with pale gray fabric,
    An illusion to fake skin.

    They dressed me in dark blue clothes,
    Adorned with mesh and lace,
    And on my head of golden curls,
    A scarlet bow they placed.

    My right leg hung upon a nail,
    Thrust into the wall.
    Suspended there for all to see,
    Perfect for a living doll.

    My left hand crawled atop the floor,
    Attached to my fore-arm.
    And flies and crows began to sew,
    Causing no pain, no harm.

    They lifted both my half-arm and leg,
    And placed each in their socket,
    Mending me together quickly,
    Then dusting down my corset.

    Red shoes were placed on my feet,
    Then shined and tied up too.
    My new friends then helped me up,
    Off of my metal stool.

    They led me to a small glass door,
    And opened it with ease,
    Showing me a bright new world,
    A world where I’d be free.

    The crows passed me a parasol,
    And I said farewell to them.
    And then the puppet left the shop,
    A Living Mannequin.