Tuesday, July 14, 2009


Marionette, why are you wet?
Is it the tears of your pain, your regret?
Tell me your secrets. The first chance I get,
I will show you a new secret place.

Marionette whose ropes will not tear,
Release your threads, I will be gentle, I swear.
Give me the scissors. The first chance I get,
I will give you a new kind of grace.

Marionette, if your heart does not bleed
Then there will be nothing to water the seed
I planted in you so that you could forget
All the stains that you could not erase.

My precious puppet, I know that you fear
The storm that will come if you cry that first tear.
You may not know it, but I, too, am wet--
I've been catching the tears of my marionnete.

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