The Insomniac's Desire

she would be dead before their metal
bodies rust; her swollen heart would
quit churning and her watery blood
would stop flowing

so they built a glass Heaven for her
and erected stiff metal supports
below gaping windows, like mouths
without air

they teased flowers out of the dust
on her floor and stroked sunlight
all through the enclosure

they watch her:
her face, dull and expressionless,
her lips, fumbling at half-formed sounds,
her fingers, curled into claws, smear
the glass with fingerprints

they do not understand her or
what she is supposed to be

they are alone so they believe
she is beautiful, and they know
only that you must love beautiful
things with the blind passion of
a marionette.