Geppetto’s daughter

married because “he” had rejected her

wed because people lift you, once in that gown

married because children rise clean in the morning

wed because air is too dense for one lung

married because, that’s what you do dammit.

married because dreams, well, they must be chased and lassoed.

but when frivols settle, and it goes quiet at night, the truth had come to rest in her wooden and elegant veins

when the racing heart slackened for just a spare and enduring moment, when the eyes of the world supped on her no more,

then it was that the dreams and fanfare unwrapped themselves, jumbling into simple lists of regrets and wish you wells.

what wreath and wring cling there to her mechanical wrist and fingers, in those doldrums where music and fanfare have timidly slipped away? how many sea-pounds weigh that satchel of what did i just dos?

These are the questions, aspray and exploding in our trinket dust as it crashes and litters the atmosphere and our footsteps.

pledges of pearl and ruddiest bauble-work.

naked we behold the truth of our every need.

crying dry tears we wonder at the choices we’ve abandoned.

We need these adornments to assure us tomorrow’s not wasted.

Proof of some truth somewhere in the midst of our leaping at sunlight through foggy waters.

a rubbery faith might prove stronger yet than fleshier doubts of forgedest steel.

— married because “he’d” rejected her.

wed to find an escape from the asthma

a fool and a puppet’s task.

and yet there beside her, on a bed of clean linen, a twin to her breathing, pledging I will not leave you, i the best sunlight your unwinding soul could afford.

she thought of shedding the jewelry.

she cried powdered and precious shavings.

she looks in the medicine glass, then closes that window which mocked the new her.

she’s tempted to free herself. to run back again to the noisy parades.

but the baubles, they sing to her. Her tears they fall.

she decides afresh to inhabit the phantoms of cedar which frame here. to pirrhouette anew the most of the dance yet remembered.

and so they walk together for half a forever.

He with his shortcomes, she with her bargains and fear.

Little flashes. Nothing over-brims with magic.

only quiet breathing and tender treatments.

theirs’ was a match made on earth.

the squawl of dreams evaporates slowly .

surrender is life.