I left her strings loose, unattended
I thought it gave her freedom
I only recently noticed her vacant expression,
Only tussled by a child or the reverberating bass at a concert
Her expressionlessness, motionlessness, aloneness...
It angers me
Now I'm tangling her strings
Wrestling with her spin
Watching her break
Fall apart
Unwind
She's still alone
I pick up my puppet and I give her new strings
Repainting her face, adding more moving parts
Painting a backdrop on her case to give her imagination
I woke up this morning
My puppet had unhooked her strings
She has ventured out
I am alone.
Shall I make a new puppet?
I like this poem. A lot!
ReplyDeleteBrings a whole new meaning to MAKING friends.
An unexpected ending, and a very compelling question.
Is making friends worth the risk of them walking out on us? Is it the degree of freedom we give people, or the degree of manipulation we inflict upon them, that causes them to walk out on us?
Perhaps I'm over-analyzing this.
So, going back to my original (and the most important) point... I like it!
- Erin
P.S. Maybe "walk out" isn't a fair term.
ReplyDelete"Venture out," which you use, is probably better.
- Erin