Dollhouse
Sequestered indoors,
I become
acutely aware of my size,
and its changeable nature.
I swell and shrink, like a painted “magic” washcloth
with
and without the moisture of those around me.
This is a doll’s house,
the details of life
pixilated and blurred
constructed on a scale
larger than my own.
The walls are far away,
their curvilinear structures
staying, always, at a distance
even
as I move closer,
they repel my magnetic edge.
I am made of paper
of the thickest kind,
my appearance changed by folding the tabs
over my corners.
My movement sounds
like tack board on the wind
wobbly and angular,
I go through the motions.
Dwarfed by my material constants
in this tilt shift perception.
Image by CountLazarus
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