Direct Action

Topped by hair chopped off
from her favourite doll, Lucille,
your daughter's toupéed your fattened goose.
She adores Lucille, has slept years of nights
face buried in her golden locks, scented
with vanilla. Your goose has no name,
no rights, it seems. She's destined to die
for your table. Your child decided
that was wrong. Helped by sharp scissors
she clipped and now awaits to see
if you, her father, has a gentle heart,
or if she'll run away, escape your cruelty.