covers the small stage set
with canvas, his aged hands
folding away wires, strings,
brushes & paints on shelves
clanks
in meticulous beats as his
pocketwatch, precise
as his master list of lists-
autumn night settles in
with ghostly musty air
his robe is
immaculate in its whiteness
as he pats the summer's gold coins
in his pockets,
he closes the room
muttering words only the wind
hears,
the shop
floorboards heave, a big exhale,
a little movement, here
& there, a twitch & spasm
finally
the puppets are stirring awake
each wrinkled pumpkin face
with zombie eyes
is a flicker of energy
as they search
scramble
for their chords & clicks
for their sinews & sticks
(where are our memory cards?)
shaking, jerking, falling tragically
as the moon
watches
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics - Halloweeny Humans hosted by Lisa Fox.
A commentary on the way social media giants manipulates and spins our lives with algorithms, sending us deep into webs of addictions and superficial lives.
Join us when the pub doors open at 3pm EST.
