Poem: Fantoccini

 

Fantoccini

 

are they flesh,

or plastic of mask and guile?

does a mainspring spindle into a heartfelt blurb

that only appears to beat?

 

when you observe them

in the circus of fluorescence--

that moebius jingle cascade

disgorged by the blue screen cacophony--

 

it seems, maybe, the eyes bob astray.

it seems, maybe, the schticks sink,

as if frail rafts had slipped off prop bollards

to suffer devilish fins.

 

it is later,

 

past the glamour of the cogs,

in the desert of the strobe sheen,

wandering in frantic hypnosis,

where they can be caught in the lie.

 

it is later,

 

in the yawn of eye apertures,

behind caked facial features,

after ratings have absconded,

 

when their own unanswering answers

confront the very same questions

that others once asked them

with small mouths seeking prophecy.

=============

Tired of all the mass shooting in this country and the lies of the Republican politicians, defending easy universal access to guns guns guns...