#151

April 25, 2012 § 6 Comments

I read letters
you never sent me
The ones you script, dear playwright
line by line – yours
and mine
Captive conversations
you’ve held me in –
I have no say
but play
a marionette
A dangly
dancy
incarnation
The imagined life
of wood
and plastic

Swirling like cream
in the ridges of my
mug of tea, I see
the evidence swept
like the leaves left
when the dregs
are drank
I read
the future as you see it –
Seeking
stability in your divination
I’m reaching
for the roots
that screw you to
the ground because
no matter how tightly
you hold the ropes
as they are fraying,
dear playwright, please remember
that still
my feet are swaying

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