Marietta, Unstrung

They thought she was carved for wonder.

Polished smooth.

Palm-sized miracle.

A thing to admire,

to animate,

to set spinning with careful fingers.

They mistook stillness for obedience.

Marietta remembers the first tug,

the invisible thread meant to test her weight,

to see how easily she might sway.

She swayed, yes,

but not because she was pulled.

She was listening.

Inside her wooden ribs

sap still moved like memory.

Roots whispered upward through her spine.

She was never hollow,

only waiting to choose her own motion.

There are hands in this world

that love the idea of a doll.

Love the gleam of lacquered lashes,

the tilt of a chin that seems pliant.

They imagine soft compliance,

a marionette devotion,

strings hidden but firmly held.

Marietta lets them imagine.

Then she steps forward

without being lifted.

The gasp is always the same.

She does not snap her strings.

She dissolves them.

One by one they fall,

not cut in anger

but shed like a winter skin.

She is not here

for idle musings.

Not a toy for passing loneliness.

Not a shape to be posed

in someone else’s story.

Her body is not a stage.

Her mouth was carved for speech,

not silence.

For laughter that startles rooms.

For truth that tastes of cedar and salt.

If you reach for her,

reach knowing this.

She may take your hand,

but she will never fit in your palm.

Marietta is beloved, yes,

but not owned.

She is bitter, sometimes,

but only where the knife first met the grain.

She is a drop of the sea,

and the sea is never a plaything.

She moves because she chooses.

She loves because she wills it.

She stays because it nourishes her.

She leaves because she can.

And the ones who hoped to play

find themselves standing still,

watching her walk away

with no strings in sight.

Reviews

[Rosie C]

This is a very charming piece with an eye-catching, delicate flow.

Each sentence creates a balance within each stanza. My eyes are gently carried from word to word.

This poem is packed full of character and emotional depth. I’m deeply intrigued by the descriptive details.

I can see a twinkle, as this piece comes to life. Very well written. Super enjoyment.

[Curly Grace]

Thank you, Rosie. I’m glad the flow and small details spoke to you. Your kindness here means a great deal.

[Brandon Houser]

A wonderful charming piece. And a touching ode to independence.

[Curly Grace]

Thank you, Brandon. I’m glad her independence reached you, that was the pulse I carved her around. She’s a small thing, but she stands on her own terms, and it means a great deal that you felt that in her.

[Betty Hermelee]

Every word in this beautifully written piece is a gem...her being is all encompassing self worth...everything she does, is because she wills it...because she has strength of character..." Marietta is beloved, yes, but not owned"....every breath is her own, every step is her own, and every move is her own...
Nice!
Warmly
B

[Curly Grace]

Thank you, Betty. I’m grateful you felt her strength and self‑possession so clearly. Your words are a gift.

[Betty Hermelee]

You are most welcome!🌷🌷🌷
Warmly, B

[Neville]

Exquisite ink ma'am .. this is another fine example of why I first fell in love with poetry .. Neville 😎💛👍

[Curly Grace]

Thank you, Neville. I appreciate your kind words.