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

away


its bright pattern

somewhat stained,

its secrets as kept
as the weaver.


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