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Jan 2017
. red thread .



we did not know  the red thread of fate,              tied readily .

tied with inevitable red  or                       ****** rags again.

a meditation on thread, mediation of red,    i dream of you.

clearly your clothes remain the same, worn,           washed,

pressed.

your ideas come different.



be well in your mending, despite the pain,    raddled cotton .



pin  to hold life again.









The two people connected by the red thread are destined , regardless of time, place, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. This myth is similar to the Western concept of soulmates or a destined flame.



(notes for Morrigan, May the first cabinet be locked, the second also, yet leaving the red key in, please?)

Room Two.



. Bound.



comfort bound in       clean                                                       linen.



arises with perfume,            an                            uncertain memory.



what else will you expect of me             . that, mis spellings or rags.



you see, i say it means nothing.   leather bound, broken, words lost



in boxes.





notes.



:: bound ::

    tied; in bonds: a bound prisoner.
    3.
    made fast as if by a band or bond: She is bound to her family.
    4.
    secured within a cover, as a book.
    5.
    under a legal or moral obligation: He is bound by the terms of the contract.
    6.
    destined; sure; certain: It is bound to happen.



Room Three.



.Crossing.



carefully you  drew crosses on my skin.   i looked at you ‘ kisses?’  no, you said,  crosses……



notes.



i have been asked about secrets, secrets, that I should not tell, and I tell you that I have been kissed truly kissed, and the tear tore my face, a water stripe, dipped in agony and love for you that must be a secret you said, you said, so I will write it here and print it, and print it, and dip it in wax, the kiss.i have been asked



Room Four.



. Stitching.



i have done this,      when all else are asleep,



stitching, thinking,         listening to the rain.





then  the voices                               stopped.



cover  the surface . that stitching can be

rhythmic,



and never mind the capitals. clever words

confound.

the littled dress sewn quietly with love.







we have  many more rooms  to describe…….
Sonja Benskin Mesher
244
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