by Roxanne Burns

I am your puppet
You make me dance on crimson thread
With Mardi Gras dreams and violin strings
While the children clap tiny hands
You, in your pulpit
Directing the farcical charade
Weaving nutcracker tapestries
I, the obedient prima ballerina
Made of papier mache and ermine
Dance minuet
Smile painted smiles, past perfect
Through doll’s eyes with camel-hair lashes
Dream effervescent daydreams
Of quicksilver ponies and chiffon sweet-peas
Don’t laugh at me, please,
Don’t laugh
But now the show is over.