I had you by a thread when
you met an end.
You’d been spinning out
so far from me,
down from your gown.
So much pink string
lay in waste, now.
I am still
tumbling backward.
A kickback of your momentum.
The impulse when tension broke you
free of life, woven.
I hadn’t guessed
how little was left.
I’ll never know
if I could have caught
up. The more I tugged,
the more of you came
free. So I just held on.
I stopped pulling at you,
trying to reel you in,
for fear there may be
nothing left
one day. You called to me
to wait for you to draw
near. Now, you’ve come to pass;
there is nothing left but slack.
Had others been pulling
or had you met a snag?
Got caught
up? Tangled up
in you, now, I wish I’d run
the length of your cloth.
Next to naked,
I’d have spun all I had of you
round you again.
Without you,
I tie knots.
Knots upon knots, I know not
what to do. Without you,
this spool serves no purpose.
Knots upon knots, I know not
what to do. Without you,
I sew buttons on my lips,
stitch patches on my tears
and RIPs.
But knots upon knots, I am
haplessly tangled. You were
who knew best how to help me
in such a mess as this.
Pink string, as I draw you
through my eye,
I think
I shall like to swallow you.
Knot upon knot,
never lose you,
or not what is
left. Even this;
your knot in my throat.

written on 07/23/2013 by: Matt Kane