The Naming of Dolls

I was always afraid of the porcelain ones
you lined along the shelf of my bedroom wall-
jellybean eyes that filed downward
when I was in the wrong,
shearing my name in the dark.

You wanted me to be like them-
perfectly polished, coifed, cute,
in order to make a good impression
on those who would never get the chance
to know me at all.

I would shape my hair precisely
the way you had in your pictures-
your arms were smaller,
but your head remained the same.
I seemed to favor my father...

And then the year came, when you called me Anomaly
and allowed me to stub bare feet
on roots born long ago.
And from that moment I found myself
pining for your eyes
in any angle of mine.