None

She screamed,
Isabelle,
all together in playhouse
sing-a-longs;
turning off the room lights
to let plastic argue,
come to life,
and waste it.
Isabelle,
she witnesses
the turning of the clock,
tiny figurines with full arm rotations
delivering slight smacks on
the buttocks, swift motions
to the face after ten hour shifts.
Isabelle,
so still, using a dream palace
as a brick and mortar nuclear fallout,
when boys and girls don’t play nice.

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