Poetry

Cloth

The pattern is not ours

“Tunic (Uncu)” is licensed under CC BY 3.0.

Time has made my thread thicker,
more pliant and soft,
but the way it turns below or over
yours shows the heft and span

of our whole story.

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Cloth spun from early dreams
and hard twists,
unexpected hardship, harmony,
loss, parting and knotting,
woven again and again into more.

The pattern is not ours,

the way we met before the first time,
almost like fate, and now, among the pigeons
of an outdoor cafe, drawn
by the pull of what was weaving us

hard as canvas, supple as silk.

Who is worthy to wear
the dappled cloth of our living
but the naked voices of every thing
that sang our tissue into being,
this knotted fabric — to fold away
or wear

at their whim.

© Lloyd A. Meeker