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