Pinocchio

Winter 2010

What hot boiling rage is this?
From where birthed?
As the dropped puppet,
crumpled on the mock-stage,
first seeing his strings,
must burn with anger
at his helplessness
And curse black Geppetto
in unspeakable tongues,
plotting vengeance in wooden silence
behind a painted smile.

Let the Blue Fairy come...
in due slow passing time...
Let her wave that magic wand...
Let the strings dissolve
Flesh and muscle replace his bastard bolts and joints
and then lie still
so very still...
until He returns, to tinker again in passing
presuming all to be well
that self-satisfied smile upon his fat cheeks,
knowing all his playthings are where he left them,
abandoned, but loyal by their helplessness.

Beware, old man,
You will not find a loving son, here, 
o father Geppetto
No warm boy brought to life
But a fury fueled prisoner
on his own two feet
unforgiving, uncompromising, unfettered
with a memory of stone
etched by your insulting self-gratifying dances,
and a beating heart too gristled
to be merciful
and too cunning and patient
to be rashly impetuous in toppling your self-maintained delusions of deity.
Beware, o smiling Geppetto
for the toy shop grows treacherously restless in your absence.