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Dec 03
poem 1 comment
Lilak1

The mannequin

The mannequin lives a perfect and simple life.

As an empty hourglass,

she creates the ideal silhouette,

hips out and stomach in,

her breasts held up by an invisible force.

Many pay mind only to the clothes she holds. 

No one whistles at her, grabs her breast, grinds against her. 

It is just not done, not in public.

She stands hour after hour, month after month, year after year,

yet she never ages, she is always

frozen, ironic, as in our world “hot” she would be called.

An expressionless face stares out into the…

She knows all, watches child to adult. 

They have grown,

but she remains the same

in her perfect, simple yet still life.
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Posted: 12.03.19
About the Author: Lilak1
Jalila Nazerali-Ruddy
MSG / CONTACT
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Discussion

Comments

  1. aesythe
    Dec 03, 2019

    Lilak1, I've seen this topic approached from a few different angles: jealousy and/or admiration toward this figure with her "perfect" proportions, empowering rejection of the mannequin as a symbol, etc. I'm so happy you chose instead to put a more tender spin on this idea. It never feels as though you're looking down on the mannequin, but like you hate to see her suffer -- in the way you might feel watching a friend set aside her mental health day after day in the pursuit of beauty & not know how to help. The mannequin has a body any woman might dream about, but she is expressionless, void, empty, watching the world pass her by. It's a sad trade-off. You express the absurdity of looking upon the mannequin as anything more than a deceptive tool of the fashion industry, yet you've done it in a way that's thoughtful and sensitive rather than aggressive and obvious.

    If you have a particular interest in exploring this kind of thing any further, I highly recommend a book of poetry called "Kinky" by Denise Duhamel, who brings Barbie to life in a number of strange and uncomfortable situations that do nothing but reflect back on us, the human creators idealizing her.

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