barbie in the bathroom

i feel like being controversial. this may not be strong enough...so i will wash it down with its companion poem. re: the one that appears above.

The Myth of the Eternal Female
or
Barbie in the Bathroom

Her blue-shadowed eyes,
eat up half her face,
pried open lidless
lashless. All the hair
that should be on her legs,
her arms, her underarms,
the area reserved for reproduction,
down-hair revealed by lamplight
on chin, arms, toes,
is transplanted, has migrated
to her egg-like head.
Flawless shell of a woman.
Every man’s poster dream
love stimulant
for boys taught not to feel
(hands beat the feeling out of them.)

Girls hands caress the curves
they want for themselves so bad.
Stuff the first trainer bra to make
the soft pink chest flesh round
faster. Maybe then the boys will chase
them at recess; want to peek
down their shirts when they
swing upside down on the monkey
bars. Pray that they don’t get acne
or moles. Please God don’t let me
grow those black spots like my mom
has. Slather on the sunscreen.
Block life out.
Please God don’t let me have that
fat around my back and middle
or those jiggling thighs.
Don’t let my stomach bulge when
I sit or bend, Dear God forbid it!
I want legs to wrap around the world
not functional ones to carry babies with.

Soft fingers of soft girlies
combing the platinum plastic hair
loving the dolls
making the dolls love the Kens.
One day when Ken in flesh
incarnate comes they too
will love the Kens.
The Kens will caress
their oblong shapes
lopsided breasts
kiss blemished faces
faces with moles, pocks
from zits popped prematurely
in high school.
Even hug the creasing, bulging
bulbous middles that won’t
go away no matter how many
Pilates tapes accumulate
on the video shelf.

Maybe one or two will
refuse to shave her legs.
Because the hair grows naturally
there. And maybe she will find a
Ken who will like to rub
his hands up and down her hairy
legs because he prefers live flesh;
because she is not an egg-head
coated with thick plastic hair
with eyes that eat up half her face
makeup painted perfectly in place
everyday without fail.
And though the hair on her head is thin
and brown he will run his
fingers through it when they make love.
Because she doesn’t want to pollute
the earth with all those plastic
razors or fill the flowers and leaves
with scented shaving cream.
Hell, because that’s the way
God made her.

Because she feels like Venus without being hairless.