like a child learning to
tie his shoelaces. Like a ***
of crowded spaghetti. Like a ball
of yarn the cat clawed. Like my wavy

hair as I brush it out. Tangled up
as the thoughts in my head, I blurt
from my mouth. Just like a fisherman’s line
on the weeds, or a kite’s

string in the trees. Tangled as the clog
in my bathtub, or my necklaces that are
in knots, thrown in the drawer. In this mumbled,
jumbled mess of tangling I find myself sparkling

from the twists and turns, knots and
mats. The muddles and snarls only make
me smile. And to straighten them out
would leave me flat.