Sliver

Silver moonbeams spill to the floor

Through the open warp on the loom

The pattern as yet incomplete,

Watermelons and stars: a difficult undertaking.

 

By now you know

Never to eat watermelon seeds,

They grow into thick walls with vines

Creeping round, confining the heart.

 

The heart, that feeling red organ,

Generous as the watery fruit

Which quenches its thirst,

Circulates love.

 

Stars spangle the inky sky

Sequins on chiffon they whisper,

“Spit it out, spit it out,

With each seed sow peace.”

 

A sustained undertaking,

The tapestry complete when

Weavers come together in union

While silver moonbeams spill through the open door.

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3 thoughts on “Sliver

Your peace . . .

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