Marionette Soup

Dining after hours with dolls

Marionette Soup

Marionette soup comes in a midnight bowl

Filled to the brim with mushroom tumbling

Under the golden moon dolls cut their strings

Nutcrackers on crash diets sink saltines

Welcomed to float inside awhile

But not included in the price of dining

Russian dolls introduced to soup dive in

One after another dropped into darkness

Each one becomes smaller and smaller

Within themselves only they know why

Perhaps pretty painted faces need flavor

To appreciate the human race

There is no soup for you!

Forget about spoons at this hour

Two dainty fingers made of wood

Hold the bowl sides in balance for taste

Preparing to slurp what is inside

But marionettes are dignified. They don’t slurp

Discerning humans understand this part

It is an art

They have come to eat you and your soul

Assuming you have one worth consumption