By Diane Webster
The man stares at me
with mute puppet
comprehension —
blinking eyes betray
the only life inside.
I want to fold him inside
his coffin suitcase,
let his eyes focus
on skinny cracks of light
leaking into that space.
I want to whip open the lid,
see his eyes dilate
before they snap shut
from the glare of white sun.
I celebrate in his reaction!
but the puppet returns;
I drag the suitcase
until another noon blazes.
Diane Webster’s work has appeared in North Dakota Quarterly, New English Review, Studio One and other literary magazines. Micro-chaps were published by Origami Poetry Press in 2022, 2023, 2024 and 2025. She was a featured writer in Macrame Literary Journal and WestWard Quarterly. Her website is: www.dianewebster.com