You can see them if you look closely. The fixers fixing. Broken things. Old things. Silly things. Brave things. Shattered or whole, the fixers fix. ‘But why do they fix?’ You ask. ‘Because they are the ones who need to be fixed the most,’ I say.
Tag: puppet
The Pulse of a Puppet’s String (draft)
A heart of wood,
not easily turned,
yet crafted with
tides of love.
Resilient to all
afflictions, desiring
that which many dismiss:
humanity. Flesh.
The drumming of ruby
rivers through a
blue-green maze,
a pillow inflated
with air inside
the kinetic cavity.
But porous grain
and rounded knots
only become sinewed
in the wake
of honesty and
its brother,
truth.
