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Literature Text
Little puppets
Your arms relaxing
Looks like
You’re stretching as you wake up
But instead you’re getting ready to sleep
In my little doll-chest
Your limp strings tangle
Perhaps Atropos can sort you out.
Before I close the box
I contemplate your clothes
They don’t suit any of you
He’s wearing a fine suit
She’s coiffed and corseted
His smile.
Her frown.
Everyone’s mixed up
in this wooden masquerade
Perhaps Atropos can sort you out.
And as I close the box
Shroud you in darkness
And stuffy air
The back of my hands
Ache
And as I look up to my master
I see only the strings
Reach back
Into the box.
Perhaps Atropos can sort me out.
Your arms relaxing
Looks like
You’re stretching as you wake up
But instead you’re getting ready to sleep
In my little doll-chest
Your limp strings tangle
Perhaps Atropos can sort you out.
Before I close the box
I contemplate your clothes
They don’t suit any of you
He’s wearing a fine suit
She’s coiffed and corseted
His smile.
Her frown.
Everyone’s mixed up
in this wooden masquerade
Perhaps Atropos can sort you out.
And as I close the box
Shroud you in darkness
And stuffy air
The back of my hands
Ache
And as I look up to my master
I see only the strings
Reach back
Into the box.
Perhaps Atropos can sort me out.
Bored in Civ and thinking of something Erin said.
© 2009 - 2024 Sculcuvant
Comments3
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We are puppets, all.
I really like this, Jackson.
I really like this, Jackson.