The glass doll stands upon the block.
She says, soft and small, “Don’t crush me.”

He balls up his fist, and raises it. He smashes
and spatters her body. He says,

“If you did not wish to be crushed, why
stand upon the block?”

She shivers. She quivers. She sighs. She says,
“I did not stand there to be crushed. I stood there

to trust.”

He says, “Well you’re a fool then.”
And hastily sweeps her dust under the rug.