Monday, September 24, 2012

The lacemaker


Dexterous hands tie the needles to the pillow
nimbly feeding the bobbins
with rows of cloud like cotton
The lacemaker jabs the pattern
with orange needles

Carefully ties the first node
singing, repeating verses
with the same subjected
node codes

She forgets her empty belly
the sadness of her poor bare feet
singing the beauty of the blue pillow
while draws in white
the figure of dreams
made out of cotton clouds

Subservient she obeys the orders of needles
removing them, releasing the pillow
from acrid tips

Distracted the lacemaker
ignores the wrinkled lines of yesterday on her face
or her owns calloused hands,
absorbed in transform the continuous line
in the story she tells in lace