reconciling ill-matched threads: July 2009

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

my cheeks may be hollow and my hair amber
but I am still a still-life
if you look through my key hole

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She who reconciles the ill-matched threads

of her life, and weaves them gratefully

into a single cloth-

it's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall

and clears it for a different celebration

where the one guest is you.

In the softness of the evening

it's you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,

the unspeaking center of her monologues.

With each disclosure you encompass more

and she stretches beyond what limits her,

to hold you.

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