weaving and unweaving she listens
for the noise of suitors in the
anteroom, waiting on her word
as the scenes in fine wool are
worked and unworked, the strands of cadmium red, the
cobalt blue, twisted, nooselike, round her
finger, cutting the blood off, distaff and spindle in hand,
imagined scenes of her husband's journey, the
roiling waters between rocks, born
along by pride and brawn, this
circumnavigation as the threads pass through
the heddle, the labor of the day patiently
undone as she waits, as she wonders
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