I can’t walk around without making a clatter
I can’t sit close to the fire
I can’t give my father a soft embrace
I can’t even want to

I can’t help being made of wood
I can’t stop my nose growing
I can’t work as a marionette: I have no strings
I can’t say what truth is

I can go a long way from the town
I can live in the belly of some gigantic fish
I can live without oxygen

I can sharpen my nose to pierce the fish and escape
I can use my special nose to dig the earth
I can maybe become a tree again

First published in Creatrix