The puppet thinks:
 It's not so much
 what they make me do
 as their hands inside me.

This is a beautiful little piece from a Charles De Lint story. I don’t have much to offer in the way of analysis or commentary, as the poem is almost like a haiku in its clarity. The author provides a beautiful metaphor in the puppet. Normally a toy, it takes on a sinister undertone here that seems tied to a vision of humanity. This poem also reminded me greatly of the film “Being John Malkovich.” Basically, I submit it because it sends shivers up my spine.

–Sarah