The night is hushed The women are weaving Hair piled upon their heads Naked napes They talk in whispers Weaving Their lover’s names The women labor Tying knots Speaking their lover’s names Over and over They are weaving swollen vaginas
Pursue their lover’s thoughts And bring them home Tied in knots
The women are weaving They sigh Lifting breasts skyward Adrenalin rushes from heart to
brain They pause in subliminal
sensations Sweeten celebrations Exhale blindly . . .
The women are weaving They tie their lovers Velvet, lace, and satin Hovers over anxious flesh Enmeshing their lover’s hushed
gaze Awed in the melody of their grace And delicacy.
Women weave Their lover’s hearts In a ballet of yarn To the Goddess of Knots Their lovers gaze in horned
wonder They slip Weak into submission In their lover’s arms And weave no more.
