Broken Pinocchio by Fabrice Poussin
They make sounds like bags of marbles
moving along on certain paths
seeking evasive grooves filled with blood.
Their dislocated hearts houses of cards
fragile under the breeze of heaven
resonate with the echoes of distant ruins.
Waltzing a mad dance between a death and a dream
they may reach to an unseen evil in the blue
swatting at invincible blades of a hazy glow.
Mounted on the strings of a blind executioner
they are puppets flowing with a black potion
ready to fall prisoners of a master atop a great mount.
Mechanical engines born of a passionate spark
juicy robots on their quest for an anchor
they fail in becoming the image of a father.
Jerking through dubious paths of unfinished lives
they stumble on infinite particles of forfeited futures
never quite living, icy with death in a blaring sun.
Ragged dolls at the hands of their vengeful gods
condemned to pursue the dance of shattered shadows
as many Sisyphus desperate for a safe exit.
Broken sorrows of a toy named Pinocchio
they will forever roam the deadly roads of destinies
leading into a thickening darkness into oblivion.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University. Author of novels and poetry, his work has appeared in Kestrel, Symposium, The Chimes, and many other magazines. His photography has been published in The Front Porch Review, the San Pedro River Review as well as other publications.