Department Store Mannequins
. . . look terminally serious,
lips pursed, mouths pouting slightly
with corners turned inward.
They seldom smile
or display the smallest pleasure,
even when meticulously dressed
in the most sublime couture.
One hand is on the tilted hip
to show off the flow of fabric;
cheekbones flat and thin
without the fleshy apples
that tempt eyes away
from the neutrality of brand.
Lackluster, emotionless,
sometimes headless or abstract;
no delight or euphoria here.
After all, smiling mannequins
might scare customers
if they flashed teeth,
seemed to be eavesdropping,
or appeared to have an opinion
about the cut of a cardigan.
Mannequins have nothing to say
but everything to show,
with their blank runway stares
fixed on some obscure,
indifferent world
that reflects our own.
Removing the Wallpaper
She’s scraping, scraping,
wondering who did this,
whose hands set traps for her,
whose bad taste caused
a conflagration of orange mums
to engulf the bedroom walls.
Will she ever peel away
this gaudy scrollwork
emblazoned with thumbprints
and flecks of red crayon?
Time has burned its emblem
into the garish flowers—
an umbra oily with hair gel
from her careless ex-husband
who read magazines in bed.
Hours pass; the room
is a mess of wet petals;
her shoes stiff with glue.
She will not be satisfied
until paste melts to the floor,
fresh paint is spread on plaster,
and her new life begins
with the stroke of a fiery brush.
Donna M. Davis is a native of central New York. A former English and creative writing instructor, she currently owns a résumé writing and book design business. Her poetry has been published in Third Wednesday, Pudding Magazine, Slipstream Review, Poecology, Carcinogenic Magazine, The Centrifugal Eye, Red River Review, Ilya’s Honey, Gingerbread House, Red Fez, Oddball Magazine, Aberration Labyrinth, Halcyon Days Magazine, The Comstock Review, and others. She was a special merit winner and finalist in several of The Comstock Review’s national awards contests.
