Numb Puppet

Stretch the sinews, at the joint,
over bend and curve and bony point,
weave the spool of muscle thread
from limb to limb, and from toes to head;
pack the organs, tight betwixt
the rib cage, crammed together and mixed,
and seal the bones with the skin,
the skein that keeps all such snugly in.
Give him hopes and dreams and faith,
love the guiltless fool, mislead the naif,
pull at his strings, watch him dance
upon the wind, the whims, happenstance.
Tell him lies about the soul
as he feels troubled, that inner hole
no heart or nerve or hormone
can rightly fill, nor ought else so known,
for the puppet knows his strings
and the truth of all such mortal things;
cutting tendons, bleeding veins,
he frays his seams and unwinds his skeins,
gouges his eyes, stumbles blind
and strikes his skull to numb the mind
with trauma out from the shelf
atop which the puppet finds himself,
abandoned as Cain in Nod
by the Puppeteer, the Craftsman, God.

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