Puppetry Without Strings Attached

A leaf flutters in his chest,
a replacement for the absconded heart,
and catches oxygen with its stretched veins.

The leaf is frayed, crisp, refuses to land
permanently; believes decay
cannot touch a moving object.

In the dark beneath the bone, the leaf
clings to the fallacy it is still green,
has unfurled only recently.

** this is an edit of No Strings Attached.