THE OTHER SIDE OF MUSIC
Sleeping, I saw us
making gods of ourselves.
Closed my eyes tight
to keep the night in—
but strong light
on shallow pond
brings back the girl I was
from endless knots
carved of stone.
Threads once wandered
far from center.
Turning back in,
they stopped
at mid-air wounds.
She won’t be needing them—
scarves of then
stitch-bound,
incensed,
once dimmed a lamp of glass and iron.
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