Thursday, October 2, 2014


Moments woven, knitted loosely on blunt needles,
ticking, clicking, knotting, tying, holding in place,
so many images, thoughts, feelings and fears -

as if, drawing it all together could make something
tangible, substantial, real, lasting, enduring, as if
in the threading together some form could be set

surely, securely, comfortingly, in my mind, where
all that was, could be held safely, kept tidy, locked
away, so that what had been could never be taken

away, as what was, had been taken, and what might
be, had been lost and unravelled, scattered across
the cold floor of being, tangled around the shabby

furniture of loving, leaving me alone, with no more
than the slow, sad, knitting together of fading threads
of fragile, soft and yielding lengths of bitter yarn.

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