Unweaving You from Me

 

Perhaps you thought I’d simply pull you out

Of all I am, as if you were a seam

Sewn loosely on my life? That I could rout

Your yarns like threads from some supposed scheme

Of richer, thicker, tight-laced patterns? No!

I’ll need to pluck you inchmeal, strand by strand,

From every foot of woof that spreads aglow

With greens, blues, oranges…compel my hand

To unweave glittering yards until my warp

Runs ragged. All my craftsmanly designs

Will hold so little of their former form

Without your yarns’ bright hues and loops and twines.

At last, you might be wrested from my weft—

But oh! My warp would shelter stretches left!

 

 

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