Poetry

Dictate

Only a solemn crash
with a certain lunar gravitas could pull
on my frail and golden limbs.
Marionette strings mean little
if the fingers, leprous or
arthritic cannot dance.
Imagine the show.
A fallen deft hand
lax in lux,
cut
and lay down bleeding.
Its puppet dancing above.
What a reversal,
coffinless and smiling, without rehearsal.

Adam Casey