Pins and Strings

by Mary E. Lowd

Fall, 2015

I glimpsed glittering worlds through a veil,
I pushed back the veil, explored, and wrote down
what I saw.

The worlds are words.
They’re written now.

They glitter.

They’re dead,
Pinned like butterflies
in a box.

And all that’s left behind the veil is cartoon images,
Two-dimensional, joke versions that I jerk to life
Like puppets on strings.

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