DOUBLE WEAVE
For Lillian Elliott
Here are painted birds.
Here is the fly shuttle.
Here are the floats
High over the warp.
Here is the morning
And its unusual shape. The
Selvages are gathered and overspun.
Here are the reeds, even and full,
The canals of heddles between here
And the moon. Here are the villages
And the rivers poured through them.
Here is the hand and here too, the eye,
Caught in the pattern, framed in the making.
Here is the loop and here is the needle.
Here is time, ignored for centuries,
Left on the edge of the jungle.
“We’ll be right back. We have
Gone to gather raffia. Wait here.”
Here is the blue sky or perhaps
It is the indigo from the hole, which
Reflects the tops of the tree.
Here are painted birds.
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