Wednesday, January 4, 2017

The Marionette by Amit Parmessur

Emancipation of mind
is the greatest liberty. ― LAILAH GIFTY AKITA
She stumbled upon a brand-new girl marionette
lying comatose in her littered backyard. Supine.
With rotten finger-like twigs around her throat.
She looked quite beautiful in that policewoman’s
uniform and with that aquiline nose!
When she carried her home, her colors spilled
onto her hands and poured into her eyes
as she wiped at hot teardrops.
Once in her room, she placed her on the bed,
stroking her black straw hair, talking her back
to life; only a miniature pair of handcuffs
fell out of her pocket. A few perfect circles
appeared on the bed sheet as the brave girl tried
grotesquely to stir and open her morose eyes.
The night was black when she died.
She now dreams, every day, of huge marionettes
clawing and pummeling at her heart.
The weight of their vile vendetta pushing her into
the colorful chasm splitting in her bed.
Her cries gagged by bloody fingers creeping
around her moldy, twisted throat.

Amit Parmessur is a poet and teacher. He has been published in several print and online journals. A Pushcart Prize and Best of the Web nominee, he lives in one of the most beautiful islands in the world, Mauritius.

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