"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Friday, April 8, 2011

Poem VIII - Ventriloquist.

Ventriloquist;
Mouth agape
words shoved in--
his lips
never make a ripple.
Anything he wants,
and I'll say it for him.
Hands
so tightly coiled
around my brain
my body
my spirit
is diminished,
and made false.

3 comments:

  1. Disturbing - there's a lesson here. Really good poetry always makes you question, think, act.
    Bravo!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I've felt like this. Some ladies have made me their puppet. It's really nobody's fault but mine. Great poem.

    ReplyDelete

"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."