be the puppet

Lifeless lolling eyes,
unable even to plead (bereft of their commander),
gather dust and do not blink.
Knotted strings hang heavy like so many
poisonous desires. "If only" echoes emptily.

I will not be the puppet
longing lonelily for the familiar
menace of a manipulator.
My unused muscles are buried
not so far as to be untracable.

Farewell to pull of practiced fingers,
to choreographed responses,
to tensing, slackening,
to intermittent, useless dormancy.

I'll walk.

Big booty, numbah fo'!
Numbah fo', big booty.