Like a glass ballerina
High up on a shelf
I call down to you,
“Handle me! ”
Like an ugly puppy
Cowering in a corner
I call up to you,
“Handle me! ”
Like a coldblooded cobra
Dancing in a basket
I hiss out to you,
“Handle me! ”
Like an ancient artifact
Crumbling in the dust
I appeal to you,
“Handle me! ”
I’m not much.
I’m fragile
Cold to the touch
Bedraggled
Fractured.
But I still need love!
Maybe in your hands I would come to life.
Maybe in your care I would lose my bite.
Maybe sleeping at your feet I would learn to dream.
Maybe on display in your museum I would be appreciated.
All I ask is that you save me from this loneliness.
Slip me into a pocket and sneak me past the clerk.
Offer me a bit of your bread and let me follow you home.
Snatch away the charmer’s flute and snap me out of this trance.
Brush away the sands of time and expose me to the sun.
Do this for me and in return
I will be your trinket.
I will be your lucky charm.
I will be your companion.
I will be your guard.
I will be your totem.
I will be your toxic treasure.
I will be your genie’s lamp.
I will be your greatest pleasure.
But only if you touch me.
For only you can release me
Because only in you do I see
A man I can trust with my secrets.
So what will it be?
Will you walk on by?
Or will you reach out
And take me as I am now
In order to make me what I could be.
As in a couple of other poems of yours, Suzanne, I like the frank wanting expressed here. One phrase I puzzle over—toxic treasure? Revisiting this poem, is toxic a descriptor you might change? -Glen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well, i read this one again before i saw i had commented on it previously and am struck again by the deep earnestness, the fierce wanting in it. -glen