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Dolls (Day of the Woman)
Silence, they declare
The spectators stand on the platform
It's coming back again!
A female automaton,
With synthetic skin and real human hair
It imitates life perfectly, or so they say.
The depth of the shadow
In the curvatures of the eyes
And the angle of her chin in firm posture.
Nostrils prideful and lips of red
It can walk and talk
Like the women we knew.
Though sometimes the weary
Grow skeptical and see
For instance, the motions
Are unfamiliar.
And you might want to scream
Get it away from the living!
What is it capable of?
The head turns too sharp
The folding texture
Hinders the skeletal structure
In ways that one is not accustomed.
On the screens in every corner
The mannequins smile lifelessly, always blonde
Like a foreheaded prominent Da Vinci execution
The face is asymmetrical
And something more than we will know
Inviting all the fear kept silent
To die somewhat inside.
He jumped in front of an oncoming train
And came to on the other side
In lady robot heaven
They smile with teeth too accentuated
Combing one another's hair.
Are you familiar with a short
Are you familiar with a short novel entitled "The Doll Maker" by "Sarban" (which was the pen name of a British diplomat, Ambassador John Wall). It is a chilling piece and, like much of British horror, suggests more than it tells. In the early sixties, it was actually taught in some high school literature classes. Your poem reminds me very much, in the best way, of Sarban's novel.
Starward