Dug Out Doll

the dug out doll digs into the horror chamber of memory heavy as my heart soil and water take up every space in the naked worn out palsy contours little holes here and there poked by the years that had slept in total darkness in the alluvial, a red swamp now punctuated only by upturned roots, an occasional toad and an orchestra of insects behind leaves, barks and branches but they cannot tame the spirit of the waylaid doll which come rain or storm is determined to have that hug from a concerned person its arms and hands stretched to the heavens lightning cast shadows on holes that have taken over its eyes, blue tranquility that now features two lakeful of evil little pinkish tender worms wriggle out of the alluvial trapped in them, little helpless creatures that too is stretching themselves and looking for love, for providence its owner is probably married and is keeping her own children warm and could not remember the poor doll she kept so dear once and now crying in the thunder, lightning dug out doll, two dark crevices that hold ghosts, empty eyes that hunger for unsuspecting souls