IN THE DOLL HOUSE
the mirrors
reflected my eyes
in rooms more
perfect than any
thing in the
cluttered apartment.
I wanted gold mirrors,
gold vanities
too, gold chairs like
those in my
grandmother's hall
near the French glass
windows I watched grown
ups slap cards
down under the
velvet painting of
Venice, wondered if I'd
ever glide thru dark
lush nights with hair
flowing. Maybe this is
why in my first
apartment as a bride,
I painted everything gold,
bought gold mirrors
with my first pay check
not unlike those
in the doll house: ornate,
curved, as if to reflect
an earlier time,
at least try to
frame reflections
of a reflection
of it