The devils darning needle
makes cranes of thought
slipping embers burning retorts
gathered like horny kindling
against regrets better half
oh how we smart
knowing twenty paces too late
our writhing gut did not mis-speak
she was the last woman of the lake
her chalked arms pulling our desist
down with the wormy witch into the abyss
there …
among weeds and lost gloves
find yourself trussed
you are the one supping on river mud
drawing the short straw with wings of flour
long is the pain
longer than searching in blind water
for rusted keys
open up
my sodden daughter
pull me out
we dry together over story time
yours has a twist
mine retains humor
laughing at the end of the world
orange the color of final plumage
somehow resurrection feels painless
scissors without the slice
lay out the fabric of your design
I’ll cut you a shape befitting our vintage
mine is copper without reflection
drink it down in one lament
through it all I never lost
the feeling of your iris fingers in my hand
now we are recasting our nets
the water is known, no depth can drown
pain shows us we survive the worst
stronger for our watery crown
what of the marked woman who lives beneath scorn?
she is with child
she is your wife
she lays the table
you pick up your knife
two from one
divides and multiplies
once she was running scared
now she flies
through needles fine blue eye
threading the world