Man in the Well--3/20

Man in the Well

I must have mistook you for a wishing well
but it turns out you were only a speakerbox
hidden in a clearing of the winter trees.
I must have stumbled on your stones
as I walked madly around the square
trying to conjure tulips.

I spoke into you, but you only replied
"What's your name?"

When I would not tell you,
you clicked on some switch or other
and a woman's sigh oozed out of you
and onto me.
I tried to clean it out from under my nails
but the humiliating pink still sticks in the crooks of my hands.

(I had no choice but to fall in completely.)

My sisters came to pull me from the well
tying stylish scarves and belts together
and I emerged wailing
plucking minnows off my skin.

They bathed me in a hot blue aquarium
and filled my heartspace with yellow fishes
but it was too late
I was already belly up.

They spoke into you
to find out where I had been
and man in the box only replied,
"What's your name?"

I haven't been the same since
with my propaganda cartoon nose
and my Venus di Milo torso.
Some call me a miracle
but I miss my arms sometimes.

They are writing my biography and making a film
based on the questions they couldn't answer
still I must continue to introduce myself
to the man in the box.

(what's your name, girl?
what's your name?)