Wednesday, 3 December 2014

Hands As Divining Rods

The next Pinocchio poem in the series

Hands As Divining rods:

The wooden boy’s eyes
discovered tears
when the tiny ballerina who
— dancing before a mirror in lopsided circles—
lived in the jewellery box
resisted his advances.

Pain seeped out — oozed in ovoids —
sticky resin slowly slid
down grained cheeks.

His wooden legs rubbed together,
calf to shin — a cricket calling out
in a lonely summer’s field .

The wooden boy asked his aging father
might there be a sister
to share his difference with.

Geppetto's hands, held
before his face, were old, suffered
little hand quakes.

'Creation lasts only so long
before the baton must be passed on
for the next to make
of it what they will.'

Tears continued their fall
down Pinocchio's cheeks as his legs
wore patches in his trousers.

Through summer evenings
the abrasive cry of cricket legs
were the only sounds he heard
as the boy tried to uncover the art
of dowsing a child from a chosen log.

Puddles of curled shaves
of wood
moved out from his feet
and spread across the room —
testament to continued failure.

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