MIGHT AS WELL
We pluck each other’s strings
the way only lovers do,
two puppets master over one another,
Lift my arms, I’ll tug on your leg.
You raise my hand to your chest
as your eyes blink at me slowly
Your mouth opens and my mouth opens.
We know we shouldn’t, I know you could
just as easily snip my strings and leave me
in a heap on the floor, and I you,
but we’ve tangled into deliciously intricate knots,
our X’s from which we hang embrace
in their wooden hug.
Bring your strings over here just once more,
maybe a couple once mores,
before the real master comes back.
Just let it happen while the master isn’t here.
It’s too late to pretend we’re just
dolls for the fun of it—we might as well move
like the strings aren’t there at all.
A. H. Lewis is a 26-year-old poet from Pittsburgh, PA, with an English degree from Allegheny College and a Disney addiction cultivated since birth. Her first collection of poetry, The Smallness of Everything Else, is forthcoming from Dorrance Publishing in spring 2019, along with other pieces published in various publications and social media accounts. She created her own freelance editing website, Happily Edit After, after editing for various projects and clients for around a decade. For Lewis, there is no weather too warm, no blanket too soft, and no bowl of gnocchi too big. Find her on Twitter @AllyyLewis, on Instagram @ahlewww, or at: www.happilyeditafter.net