Not Another Russian Doll

Click on the title, each stanza of this poem and Sarah’s name to reveal different pictures.


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Not Another Russian Doll

The painted faces taunt with knowledge
that you still don’t want to know,
hideous in their stance
of identical mute
acceptance.

But what good are hips with handles
if you don’t love to be held?
Generations of women
are stacked

Neatly inside the one uniform shape.
This is their history you wear:
the only freedom

growing smaller
and smaller

– until you reach the size of a grenade pin.

Sarah James


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