Tangle
I started weaving
barbed wire,
eyes busy not looking
at the burned dead
drying in the sun.
Where are my
black gloves to wear
for gathering the bones?
Instead
I'm wound
in a white lace dress,
I'm wound
in a white lace dress,
torn and tight
as the moon on her spindle,
as the moon on her spindle,
nothing but the last
untangling cobweb
untangling cobweb
across the opening gate.
May 2011
Posted for Friday Flash 55 at the G-Man's
Image: Barbed Wire, by Kenneth Allen, 2007
captioned: "Some times the sheep try to get through"
via wikimedia commons
well you certainly are a bit creepy tonight...weaving barb wire in you shredded wedding gown...and a moon no less...burning the bodies...yes make sure you rake the ash for the bones, those CSIs are far too clever these days...bwhahaha...
ReplyDeletei am never going to get to sleep tonight....
Dark. But I like that.
ReplyDeleteDark Dark Dark Dark Dark!!!
ReplyDeleteSomebody light a Votive Candle and say 10 Hail Mary's!!
Loved your 55 JA...
Thanks for playing, and have a Kick Ass Week-End!
Dark, indeed. But, so gorgeous!
ReplyDeleteoh cheer up fer gooness sake! ;-)
ReplyDeletei like the black gloves.
Tightly woven and starkly wonderful!
ReplyDeleteWe all have a dark side, nice to see yours is so poetic!
ReplyDeleteNow there is dark - I like it
ReplyDeletejust your style
My horse used to do that with barbed wire...
Happy Weekend
Almost reminds me of something Emily Dickinson might write.
ReplyDeleteThat's a compliment. :)
Thanks for another Friday 55!
Mine's here. :)
Love how vivid each stanza is. Hard to believe all that's said in 55.
ReplyDeleteDeeply creepy!
ReplyDeleteMy 55 are here.
Another intriguing and intelligent piece, full of dark imagery and wonderful economy of language.
ReplyDelete"I started weaving
barbed wire,"
I love this opening. Perhaps one can only be described as truly accomplished, when one can juggle with barbed wire. ;-)
Gotta keep an eye on them spiders while you work for they will weave while you look for gloves to pick up their litter.
ReplyDeleteLove and death: whaddayagonnado?, as the boys at Sopranos Corp. used to say. And this marriage to the land and another and its enclosures: no getting away from the wetwork (those drying, snarled bones). But then, the gauzy connection between wedding dress and cobweb are importantly there at the gate, a freedom which might actually come from enclosure, at least is defined by it, very probably sustained by it. Good dig. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteIf all you can do is fix barb wire- I have had to.
ReplyDeleterescued several horses from it... had them stitched. Do not dream on it, dwell anywhere near it- Thanks.
Love the imagery, hedgewitch. Powerful and sharp - like the barbed wire.
ReplyDeleteLove the intensity you packed in just 55 words!
ReplyDeleteThanks all for stopping by on a busy weekend. Hope everyone has a safe and happy Memorial Day.
ReplyDeleteWow, wonderful creepy images in this.
ReplyDelete"as the moon on her spindle" ...what a great line. Your poem made me think of a song (can't recall) where he speaks of his heart being wrapped in constantine wire...tangle captures that feel, nice 55. (btw- listened to the song in last post, forgot about that one, thanks!)
ReplyDeleteJoy Ann, dark, but perfectly put together. I think I wore that wedding dress in my first marriage.
ReplyDeletePamela
Lookeeeee! I got firefox and now i can play again!
ReplyDeletesad, haunting imagery.
ReplyDeletebeautiful job.
love the chilling feel of your words. readers need that.
this is indeed a bit creepy - weaving barb wire and wearing black gloves and a white lace dress...i loved the image with the lace dress and the cob webs..
ReplyDeleteCreepily dark. But that grows into me...I like it...
ReplyDeletejingling chains