Stabilimentum
Bend into my mouth
before frost ends us.
This long year
I’ve lumbered: spin,
devour, spin. Paced this crest
impatient for the tumble
of your nest upon my nest,
the hum of your dulcet strum.
And when I must bear you, maw
each strand still between my teeth,
bend into my mouth
impatient for the tumble.
I’ll weave of you the dust
of a thousand thousand more of us,
lace the absence of your touch,
weep our bulbous clutch.
