Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
He wanted it to be perfect,
for the words to fit together
like a well-oiled…
scratch that…
he’d heard that some Muslim women
(in Turkey or were they Moors?)
purposely wove a mistake
into their intricate tapestries
because only God is perfect
and they were right of course,
but he felt perfect just now
sitting still, warm
in a buck-fifty’s worth
of sunshine.
Copyright Andrew M. Bell. Acknowledgement is made to Valley Micropress in which this poem first appeared in Volume 12, Issue #7, September 2009. Also appears in my poetry collection, "Clawed Rains".
Written by
Andrew M Bell  Christchurch, Aotearoa/NZ
(Christchurch, Aotearoa/NZ)   
2.0k
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems