I slowly knot these words together, cross
the first line with the second. And the net
grows across time, woven. Its strands will get .
Larger than both our hearts. Now up I toss

a web of words that glitter as it flies,
seduces us as much as binds us fast
holds our heads tight and close until at last
we breathe together, see each other’s eyes

so close tears mingle,lashes intertwine.
Spidered and caught, but words are filigree
decorative, fragile. Soon we will be free
of this entanglement – the net’s so fine

a sigh will break it. So I take my pen
write a new verse, to trap us once again.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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One Response to MUSE10

  1. The ever-woven ties that bind.

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