Poppets

We had to grow up overnight,
Let go of our favourite things.
The dolls went first, battalions of
Pink into the incinerator...
Black tarry smoke poured from
The chimneys, made us cough
And gag and cry at our losses.
There were two hundred girls
Screaming as if it were their skin on fire.

Those who could play instruments
Formed an orchestra,
Used breathing apparatus
Like fire fighters,
Crushed the cries with symphonies
And bits of opera,
Hid behind masks to save
Themselves.