By Peter Halstead

I am a shrunken plastic token.
What you can do, I can’t.
I do however have a plan
To be so unloved and broken
That you’ll throw me in the sea,
Or condemn me to such heat
That, like any perfect plant
More natural and smooth than me,
Than my scrunched-up Christmas elf,
I’ll find a way to rise above
And snake and stoop and ape
To amplify and curl myself,
To grow my sordid, twisted shape
Into a toy that children love
And keep up on a shelf.

Rue de Varenne
June 2003