Without effort or effect

You became that which I sought

Who is this woman

Who answers to my name

In a voice of origin?

I, who have been

So sullen in her company

Have never known her

To possess, a smile


Whose hands are these?

Darkened with gathering steam

I want for naught

For eternity

For skeins of red thread

With which I might sew

A singular star into

My thread-less bones


I am happy to say I finished cleaning! I am sad to say I had no time to write so this comes to you in a hurry