The Handwriting of the Marionette
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The Handwriting of the Marionette
David J Walker
The confessional was
Paper-thin cursive in ink
A life of sin laid out in as few lines
As were memorable in a
Second person narrative
The ventriloquist's voice opened
The service with a far-off prayer
In another language of tongues
Which only the faithful could bare
As the maître de la marionette
Guided her signed confession
Utopia would open its gates
In the wake of the waves drowning
The funeral pyre
So goes the soul as the steam rose
From the cut strings to the
arcadian clouds somewhere higher
And higher
Copyright © David Walker | Year Posted 2020
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