Clotho's Yarn
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Your word is thicker than her dreams,
suppose you tell me what that means.
Viscosity is relative;
she doesn't have a lot to give.

Thin as the greening of a leaf,
all earthly creatures brown with grief.
Wrought in the shadow of that knife
all creatures' efforts come to strife.

Spun in the fibers of a thread
stretched taunt in time, all things cut dead.
Suppose you let the small one live.
Viscosity is relative.


Karen Tellefsen
kat2@mindspring.com

Next poem, Meat for Dreams .

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