Puppet’s Dress

Tamara Drake


In a darkened attic with silhouetted light

A puppet finds a lonely chest

In the chest, a silken dress


The puppet reaches for the dress

The dress reaches back

Clasping her wrist, it coats her flesh


A solid cloud that falls and claims

Dressing each limb, nerve, and bone

Pulling her one way then the next


Latching around her breasts

As the wind blows between her legs

The drowning need to subdue the waves


She must obey and does so willingly

Adjusting and swinging her dress-controlled limbs

To the song her body sings 


Its fierce inescapable hold

The wardrobe permanent to flesh

Absorbed into hormones


No shamed saunter, just a stride of pride

The dress hugging every fiber

Leads her to a listener


An intermission

Until her body soon sings again

Under her puppeteer dress