THREAD

I threaded through the

streets following

my path

but thinking if this were

not some tapestry

so many threads, such

swirling chaos

such regularity

as if

on track with my closure

when my

spool runs

out

unless time in the darkness

is not time unspent

here too

trajectory: itinerant

comet taking

such wide berth only

to return, yet little

joy in that

harbinger visible, coming back

unseasonal companion, colder

than

rogue asteroid, as

implacably apt

if

the Universe should

think

fresh tapestry, pattern anew

(so much nova in

its head).