The woman holds
a basket woven from
spiders-web silk.
It's filled
with traditions
forgotten,
and she wanders
through
the sleeping city
trying to remember
the architecture
of love,
the customs
that combine
to make a life.
She feels close
to grasping
the notion,
but before
her mind
can get a fix—
it separates
and she is
left tremulous
with despair.
Oh yes that moment that seems pivotal...when you can see it and it's in reach it sometimes makes it disappear...aptly and beautifully written..
ReplyDeleteOh WOW, that ending especially grabbed me--so familiar. Good write.
ReplyDeleteThe ending was the clincher...excellent poem !
ReplyDeleteEverything centers on that basket...and everything is lost...so sad.
ReplyDelete