when we first became a we
(you and i an us),
the moon slipped out of her
white robes,
and three nights were dark.
for these nights you stayed awake.
on the first, you stole memories
from my temples,
and you reached velvet fingers
between time's curtains, and you grabbed
a strand of future;
you wove them (soundlessly) with
your hair, into thread--pale as stars
on your silver spindle.
we were entwined.
when i again slipped away
to dance with the naked moon,
you kissed my eyelids
and measured
what you had spun.
digits, numbers, equations
defined our future
in your every-inch-master plan.
you smiled at its perfection
as i slumbered in mine.
at last...the finale.
you whispered "sleep"
to me, and when i did,
you made the cut.
a slice, smooth and jagged--
fiberglass split, ripping
from the edges of your rusty shears.
i didn't know it
in daylight, and i followed you
as my thread unwound.
secret smiles on your triangle of faces,
grinning at the shrinking spool--your plan,
acting, a noose.
now i have seen the fate you
created, but too late.
if the moon comes for me,
it will be your doing,
and so I will be glad.
i am a marionette,
trapped in a tangled-lace cocoon,
and you've cut the cords, so why
won't you drop
the strings?
Gold trophy winner
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