I Have Only Known Careless Love

The dolls are dreaming again
of the house with hinges.

Letting their poses drift,

they’re saying the blue sky
with one white cloud

where they come together
some afternoon. 

Because the head is a cage
in which a bird sits. 

Because of all the houses.

You pour vodka into a glass.

The dolls, right.  A doll pours vodka. 
A doll is leaning against the window. 

You’re one of them,
they say to each other

before the empty drawers. 
The sky full of ventriloquists.