"Gone Girl"

What twist of puppet-strung manipulations gone
wrong, what jerked-up dumb show, know-nothing, nothing

but strings jerking on strings, unloved, over-governed, outline plotted
dolls hog-tied to other dolls, stringing them along, egging them on,

what short-order mannequins and blood-drenched negligees.
Want to know what's gone? My sister's dead. That's gone.

And this jerry-rigged pretender no more heart
than a seven-year ball of rubber bands is a soul.

What is prayer but a rigged-up jerking doll hefting
its measly petitions—don't let her die, don't let her die—heaving over

and over our over-willed stillborn over-determined begging.
When it's over and the nauseous credits roll what's gone

is time. Gone the girl praying to the puppeteer. That girl
strung out on prayer. She's gone.