The Puppet Dance
written by: Stanley Wilkin
She left for work on that cold day
In autumn, but never arrived
Her lover called and with one decision
Love died. The sodden rags of
Our marriage floated in the wind,
Our world crudely descending
Into puppetry, strings pulled
For the lovers to dance facing
Each other as their flesh cruelly
Melted turning into streams
Which floated towards each end.
Betrayal is an ever opening door,
Forever closing, stopping only
When the lovers cease to dance to
Each other’s whispers. The malicious hum
Of silence closes
Down the conversation.
Stanley Wilkin is an academic and writer whose work can be seen on Google Scholar, Google Books, Academia.edu and Rearchgate.
Latest posts by Stanley Wilkin (see all)
- A Strange Place - December 5, 2025
- The Puppet Dance - August 15, 2025
- Until I Stopped - April 23, 2025
