Raggedy Ann (for Amy)

Momma bought a Raggedy Andy doll for me.
She knew I'd want something to drag around,
To see everything I would see, if only upside-down.
She knew I'd want a friend to prop against a tree,
To watch what I was doing and never disagree.
She wanted to give me that special toy
About which she could beam with joy,
"Son, you can take it with you."
And I did, everywhere.

I dragged him while running with my puppies up and down our hill
And flopped him around while slopping through a muddy field.
I swung him by his arms and tossed him in the air.
I held him by the scruff of his neck, sometimes by his hair.
I dragged him by his leg, let his face scrape the ground.
I even took him to bed, always keeping him around.
I helped his stitches tear and watched his eyes pop out.
Mom was always there with her needle and a thought,
"If I didn't take better care, the stuffing would all come out."
Eventually it did, because I drug him everywhere,
Because I never thought (of him) that while in my care
(Out of neglect) Raggedy Andy could ever fall apart.

Raggedy Ann, price tag hanging from your side
(Though no one's bought you yet),
How much longer will you suffer
To be dragged beside and hauled around
By the scruff of your floppity neck?
When I was a boy, I wanted something to drag around, too.
Are you a sad little boy's favorite willing toy?
Propped against a tree or with shoulders pinned against a wall,
Do you ever disagree, Raggedy Ann?

Raggedy Ann, does he call you a stupid bitch?
Has he used that one yet?
Even if I was upside down, hanging by my wrists,
I couldn't see things that way.
Does he need a silenced friend,
The reassurance of you (alone) in bed?
Is this the attention either of you wanted?
We both know there's more than stuffing in your head,
But I see your self-esteem like stitches tearing,
And some doubt is beginning to show.

Raggedy Ann, are your shoulders strung on strings,
Your weakened will bound by opal rings
Suggesting promises long forgotten
(Even when he says, "I love you")?
Oh yes, he does, he loves you now
Because you feel sorry for him, he does.
You feel sorry when he drops his eyes--
The moping and the hoping you used to think were genius.
You used to feel…
The desire in his pensive stare, his furrowed brows
Now desperate, now grasping. Now, do you feel?

("Valentine, my valentine," always his.)
He dreams of you in February,
Walking home in the snow together,
Running down hills or a flight of endless stairs,
Sloshing through the muddy fields,
Gazing at the stars,
Swinging you, wanting, in his needing arms,
Throwing you high up into the air,
Bending your neck back, silencing his fears
With a heroic kiss,
Your lips waiting, still waiting where he left you.
He left you long ago.

He forgot you couldn't walk beside him
While hanging by your legs
(At least you couldn't run then),
Down the hills together.
You were always there beside him weren't you,
Beside, but not walking,
With him but not together?
He forgot he couldn't toss you into the air,
When he was too busy pushing you to the ground.
But you were there; you were always there
To push and pull and throw and tow.
Momma knew he'd need some one to drag around.
Sewing can only fix so much though.
A needle for her thoughts now.

"I care for you so much,"
Has he used that one yet?
If he cared, then what thought he of you?
What of the neglect?
I can tell you that the stuffing is starting to show, my love,
And your stitches wearing thin.
Momma said to her son, "You can take it with you,"
But what if it falls apart along the way?
Raggedy Ann, will you?
For you to stay together doesn't mean the two of you must.
Let it fall and settle like rust in the bottom of your heart.
And you can take it with you if you want.

2/4/99