Strings of Trust
Strings of Trust
Light hearts lie on the thinnest of strings
in my heart long snapped,
who wonders at frayed ends to mend
a neat tight knot.
Many fluttered thing,
in the dark is hunted by a slithering, sounds
little movements that grip me in many naked nights.
Golden threads snipped and cross
a sudden sunny Tuesday afternoon traffic.
The wall between womb and father
and is me in four corners. I stand unmoved.
Monument to clingy winged hands that
need to be held and will not hold back.
To be enclosed and be impenetrable.
A granite center enfolded in pink linen.
Light hearts lie on the thinnest of strings
in my heart long snapped,
who wonders at frayed ends to mend
a neat tight knot.
Many fluttered thing,
in the dark is hunted by a slithering, sounds
little movements that grip me in many naked nights.
Golden threads snipped and cross
a sudden sunny Tuesday afternoon traffic.
The wall between womb and father
and is me in four corners. I stand unmoved.
Monument to clingy winged hands that
need to be held and will not hold back.
To be enclosed and be impenetrable.
A granite center enfolded in pink linen.