does a spider always know
how to weave the web it weaves
religiously, each morning?
Do birds know what the phrase “to fly” means,
or do they go along with the wind
absent-mindedly mimicking fans?
these hands do the same
circling, reaching,
trying to weave something out of nothing –
I can’t remember
that feeling.
That feeling
when my fingers brush against the palms of your hands
do you know how to trace my lines, always?
you weave my body
softly in the dark
and I want to fly away
unravel me, oh wind
nip away these seams
I can’t see my skin
under all his –
I can’t remember…
tell me, please
why water always knows how
to bend the contour
of its being
against rough memory.
The dreams pooled smooth
in my mind.
He drew out
from the well within me
the sweetest drink
and now I am drowning.
Oh soul
stay close to me
my body has become
a stranger.