29 April 2006

A piece of cloth

The warp, the weaver laid, of common stuff.
The weft, of uncommon -

uncommon to the weaver.

The shuttle pulled secrets

through the cloth

with the grace of a woman carrying a bundle on her head.

The cloth was hawked by that woman or another

on an otherwise paradise beach

Sarong? Sarong? Sarong?

After a short life tossed on and off

the cloth was laid


its bright pattern

somewhat stained,

its secrets as kept
as the weaver.

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