toy store ouija board
a marionette asks me how old i am
& i reply seventeen minutes.
all our fingers are trapped
in finger cages. the pinwheels
can't handle these gails &
our bubble wands are bent from blowing.
everyone assumes a toy is a frivolous thing.
no object is more alive. two minutes ago
i was swallowing clouds & trying
to be a teddy bear. or, in other words,
trying to be a man's shelf sleeper.
i wanted to wait patiently for touch.
a toy is a cite of miniaturing
or make-realing. i believe in wooden tops
& doll house murders. the toy shop
teems with unfulfilled 'maybes'.
we take out the ouija board
first to contact our grandfathers
& then to ask the other side
how to stop being so bloody.
hands hovering so close to touching.
bumping each other's knuckles.
nothing is just a toy because especially
a ouija board. the windows shake.
the adults melt like wax statues.
here we are so close to a truth.
yes or no. spell the future for me
my plastic dream slate
we sit & wait for ball-joints
& synthetic hair or at least a wooden heart.
all i really want is to be
grasped in one hand like an implement.
play with me soon.