Friday, 1 November 2013

Puppetry Without Strings Attached (final edit)

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

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

In the dark hollow beneath the bone,
the crisp, curling leaf clings
to the fallacy it is still green.

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