the happiest place on earth
you see, she bleeds paint
or that stuff they use on stage,
mint-flavored and thickly sweet.
she bleeds ice cream,
lollipops, cold water
anything but blood
so that those who drink
are soothed by thoughts
of her essential falsehood.
They sculpt her in the image
of their own pain
and bring her to life,
sticky Galatea.
then bleed her of cool water
and the sweets in her eyes
and the words in her mouth.
her heart pumps butter brickle
and she sweats happiness
and she is exhausted when they are done.
in her marble alcove, she sags,
eats salt, listens to news of foreign wars,
carves herself in her own secret image.
8/3/99