Mannequin

And then they say, is that really you?

Intrusive eyes travel down the body,

Invasive hands crease up my skin.

They look, they smell, they touch abruptly.

In the showroom.

They have big magnifiers with them.

(Why?)

My carcass is still,

the bag of bones is moving. not!

The doors will shut,

The silence will take over.

A tear.

Just one and very honest

Will travel down the cheekbones of the statue

Me. The bag of bones that is.

Intruders never bother me.