Thursday, 14 September 2017

THE LACEMAKER

by Julia Carlson


Thin fingers tat thread
web for a silky bride.
How long ago she was young.
Agile.  Limbs like saplings.
Green.
Never thinking of this day.
Clicking needles in a wood frame
bending, to see the flowered knot
the feathered wing
the curling vein of leaf
vine rushes spindly shoots
slow wave of thread
undulating hems necks sleeves.
Limbs tangled with another’s.
Fingers, arms. His too.
She remembers
her hair floating twisted in his hands
auburn river down her back
web for a silky bride.







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