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A Tonalist Poetry Feature

Kathleen Miller

Codex Dora (a fragment of a Fragment)




“look down at thy feet


Feet get dragged, Dora’s feet

dragging across the linoleum

floor


For fear of shaking All

the burnt Lights A puckered

ribbon of skin Waste


Her desecrated doll-chair

Her murky fish tank











Hey

you, vigilant watcher Suckity-

suck It’s snowing on the tv





The peachy peach pit, glowing in her doll-stomach










Dora cannot fix this Her fur

wreath Histrionic Its needles

Their steel spines


“The violets seem to puke a bit

Open-shut, open-

shut



All the split seams Her

doll-shoulders Framing

The snowflakes Her bed

with Their tiny pores








Her fleshy pit

*

(a specter of wooded

raw making and honeyed


the necessary caricature

being slatted and grooved)










But

Suck-a-thumbs Her girl

hood coughing attacks Peachy-

peach With views fantastic


Her slender doll-catheter

(It’s STAINLESS)

Her own milky glitter-sweat







Her lurid doll-shells

Her limber doll-gut



“Forgive me In all things

The part that tries Each

barricaded sail The quiet

trussing


A butter knife, slipped beneath her doll-pillow




Kathleen Miller

Kathleen Miller

Kathleen Miller is a poet and social worker who lives in Brooklyn, NY. Her writing has been featured in journals such as Shampoo, Matrix Magazine, Bay Poetics and How2.

 
 
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