glass eye
a flaming profusion of synthetic red hair
and a cheeky moulded plastic face
a hole in your back where my hand would go
to move your mouth and make you alive
though no movement in those electric blue eyes
static, they surveyed the whole room
at night time you watched over me
from the chair in the corner of my bedroom
an inanimate child’s toy that wove
the imagery that dwells in my heart
I’m no ventriloquist or a puppet master
though my imagination is just the same
