I think of women
sitting at their looms
and sunny afternoons
spent reading fairy tales

I think of red-haired boys
in cowboy hats and sailor suits
running home from school

this poem’s for me it’s not for you

I say goodbye not
because you weren’t
there but because
you didn’t try

you lied and that’s the truth

these are the things of my life
an empty loom
a red-haired boy
a memory of you

goodbye to love
it wasn’t real
I made it up
to help me feel alive

now spindle cells have stopped me dead

and I cannot pretend
that what I hold is thread