Strings

I built the strings

That allowed me to

Twiddle my fingers

With a questioning pose

I studied the strings

Crossed my knees justly

Pointing my eyes

To all these and those

A man who had strings

Came up beside me

Turning his head

With that jittery tic

He pulled his arm up

And wrapped it around

Smiling with eyes

Rolling marbles that click

His strings mimed voices

And carried a smile

Like a silent picture that moves

All stuccoed heart and fair

He jawed out his promises

Of love and of truth

Like no scissor no knife

Would cut his strings bare

His strings weren’t made of

Truth and trust

Weren’t comprised of

Fearlessness and care

He was a man who used

His strings as a trap

Not a beautiful orchestra

But a jolting snare