Little Doll
by Stephen Sleboda 


Light made itself
        into a
     little doll
          and
   rolled down
            a
          hill.

 Words copied
   themselves
onto envelopes
         and
put fingerprints
 over our eyes.

Sound from a puddle
      saw a wing
         in its
       memory,
    cleared away
        fog and
       invented
      starvation.

           We
            sat
            in
rain soaked coats
       on a hill
where light made
      itself into
            a
      little doll.
© Copyright 2000 by Stephen Sleboda

Look up other pieces by Stephen Sleboda in the Author Index.

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