to rub a smoth stone between fingers

To rub a smooth stone between fingers

Fingers on tabletops twitch impulsively

as if tugged by invisible chords

don’t you know that musicians are puppet masters?

who pluck the chord and jerk wooden bones

that slowly fumble out of their chairs, spilling drinks

the awkward clank of baby steps

back into fluid motion, using imagination

to learn how to walk again, like real live boys

 

arms turn into saxophones, that bend

and legs into bass lines that kick and punch

the whole crazy operation, out the back door

thoughts become drum beats, steady and intact

rooted in rhythm, a creature bound by harmony

 

because some of us need pixie dust to remind

naked bones that they are wrapped with flesh

and can rub a smooth stone between fingers

experience its natural density in the palm of hand

and sensitive mouth can be burnt by morning coffee

but ah, I’m a real boy.

 

 

Reviews

[Jaco (Jaik Miller)]

Besides the format
Besides all the technical stuff

The whole concept of the stone. F*****g awesome. I can hear your voice when you wrote "ah, i am a real boy." It reminds me that it's wise to at least try to see things with a child eyes. Even when im a worn out puppet.

[Emily B]

i love the title . . .

[Tabitha Third]

Wow. I love the imagery in here - it's incredibly powerful. (My favourite line, I think, is 'the awkward clank of baby steps'. It just works so well.) I also really like the way you've divided up the lines and stanzas.

This whole poem just feels loose, but at times angular. Much like a puppet, wouldn't you say?

I hope your other poems are/will be as good as this. I'd be proud if I were you. :)

[...]

liked your second stanza,
This is a powerful read and well written.