Poem: Spinning

Spinning
He finished with the seams. Plucking
out all the misgivings and tiny, tiny
heartaches of everyday life.
He unwound them all and began anew.

Hard to believe that it didn’t hurt; no
pinpricks, no complaints from her.
He worked for months on joining the seams.
Spent long enough repairing the base,
fastening together was all that it needed.

He began to wind himself into the fabric,
the normal twists of life. He was as
commonplace as the rising sun, the waxing
moon. Working inside her, she felt him.
Mending from the inside out.

His work began to blossom, take shape.
She began to work back, lending herself
to hour-long talks and walks to stitch the
final threads into place.

Weaving their love out of nothing,
from the air. They smile and work,
fingers turning, yarn entwining…

Finally able to wrap themelves in
each other.

09.12.06

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