Another Barbie’s Lost Her Head.

Ken, in obvious denial, parks himself straight-legged,
staring with a Dick Clark grin. His elbows
locked, his arms outstretched as if to stay
the trauma, he can’t seem to take it in, but we knew

something had to give: her noodle’s coy twist
and tilt, its limpid folly more than such a slender
stem of neck could bear. No wonder
she snapped. My daughter drops her noggin

in my palm, and we inspect the corpse. She’s
stripped, a stiffened rubber chicken; her white meat
could feed a dollhouse crew. We jam her pretty head
on tight. We twist and tamp it firm, and here

we have her new. She can look us
in the eye; she’s bolder. So what if scarves
and turtlenecks obstruct her view?
She’s got a good head on her shoulders.

Bill

GEEEEEEZ, If I had a dollar for everytime I re-headed a Barbie or some other doll.... I could really go nuts on eBay...

Great poem... with real meaning to parents..
:bunny1: :bunny1: :bunny1: :bunny1: :bunny1: :bunny1:

Loved it from the opening line!

i never could rehead them for some reason. LOL

Before, i had a barbie. I painted her eyes with nail polish (I was crazy ) and then tried to get it off with nail polish remover. The polish came off but so did her eyes!!!

Nice poem, and funny stories with barbies.