The baby buggy was pushed up to a table

there the woman supported a knitted doll

sat with empty feeding bottle to hand

patiently waiting

for the bottle to never drain

attendant on immaterial needs

the imagined spillage carefully wiped away.

 

Other dolls waited patiently

a family, a brood

of wool and glassy eyes

waiting in a woolly world

with never the wit to realize

that theirs was a mother of sorts

feeding the dream of last resorts.