The Palimpsest Review - Volume 10

The 1988 Holiday Barbie

She looked beautiful in her box,
Nothing but bright red Christmas cheer.
Her dress had never been touched. 
Her hair had never been brushed.
The silver glitter and ribbons
Shone like thousands of wishing well pennies.
A six-year-old child
Gazed wishfully
At this new, perfect present
That came packaged
With a gloomy stipulation.
You cannot open me
Illuminated her ideal purpose.
With pure blue eyes,
The doll seemed to gaze 
Back just as wishfully
At the child.
She longed to open the box
And claim the new present,
Rightfully hers.
Like silent spiders,
Her little fingers quietly began
To carefully tear
At the edges of the box.
The child did not hear
You will someday
Cherish me more
If you do not open me.
Yet a voice of authority
Said, “Stop!”
And the doll could no longer dangle
Its magnetizing beauty
In front of the child’s eyes.
Authority taped her edges closed
And put her charm aside forever,
Only to gaze at now in fond memory.
Thirteen years later,
The silver glitter and ribbons
Shone like a million granules of frost
That collected at night
On a new beauty
In the young woman’s eyes.
Slick bright red,
Fast, 
And fearless,
A Chevrolet Beretta Z26.
It came packaged
With 36K.
Its wordless moral warranted,
Take in caution,
And you may open my fun.
The tape that has secured
That opened box for years
Mirrors the few chips of red paint
That have worn away
From the machine.
Yet neither gift has lost its value.
The doll’s dress has never been touched,
Her hair has never been brushed,
And the Z26 still shines
As beautifully as it did
On July 13, 2001.