Just A Puppet

Dangling marionette
until the muse
pulls the strings.
Words cavort
when the puppeteer
gives them wings:
a license to fly.
No mere choreography
as phrases Jette
off the page.

Given a stage
where the tale pirouettes
'round the poetic,
and fingers dance
over keyboards
worn down to vanished letters.
No strings prevail
to knot or twist in the zone.
Writer freed:
I am home.